iWouldn't Ask Anna That
by Mistress of Craziness
Summary: In order to avoid Summer school with Ms. Briggs, a reluctant Sam is forced to become the new advice columnist for the Ridgeway Press. But what starts off as a lame assignment soon becomes interesting when a certain TechWiz starts writing to her. SEDDIE.
1. iBecome Anna

**Disclaimer: **Own iCarly? Why ye--no. :(

-:-

Chapter 1:

_iBecome Anna_

-:-

"_Ah! _Sam, let me go!"

"Not until you apologize for saying I stole your cupcake!"

"But you _did _steal my cupcake! I _saw _you! You even still have frosting on your--_Ah!_"

Sam flipped the quivering Gibson around so he was now laying flat on his back on the floor. The shirtless boy stared up at the towering blond with fearful eyes as she began to advance on him again, her face red and her breathing raspy. She had just begun to lift her foot and hover it over his exposed stomach when she suddenly began to move backwards, yelping about her hair.

"Sam," Carly hissed when she had pulled her aggressive friend a safe distance away from the fallen Gibby. "How many times have I told you: we do not try to use Gibby's stomach like a trampoline no matter how curious we are to see if we'll bounce."

"Well he had the nerve to say I stole his cupcake," Sam huffed, cradling her now sore curls.

"Well, did you?"

"No." Carly raised her eyebrows and her mouth spread into a small, knowing smile. Sam slowly looked down at the floor, back up at the brunette, then back down at the floor again. She quickly swiped her tongue against the corner of her mouth where she knew a bit of pink frosting was still visible. "Alright fine, I took it. I just couldn't help it, okay? I was _so_ hungry, and it just looked _so_ good."

"But you just ate lunch... _two _times," Carly replied, baffled at her friend's appetite.

"Yeah, and that was forty-five minutes ago," Sam said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, and began to let out small groans. "Oh, and now I'm hungry again. Ooh--"

"I swear you were fused with a black hole at birth," Carly laughed as Sam continued to make pained noises.

"_Hola, chicas_," Freddie greeted, suddenly appearing beside the two girls. He gave Sam--who was now keeled over awkwardly as she gripped her sides--a weird look, then quickly shook his head. "Anyway.... Hey, Sam, did you finish your--"

"Not now. _Need _food," the shorter girl grumbled, her blue eyes darting around the surrounding hall where many students stood in small circles, chatting and giggling together.

"I was just going to ask if--"

"Your girly voice isn't helping me get any food, so put a sock in it, dork ."

"You know what, Sam? I don't have to stand here and be treated like--"

"Don't care," Sam cut in absentmindedly, her vision coming in line with a bag of chips a tall, redheaded boy was eating just a few feet away. Judging by where the bag bent, Sam concluded there was about one-forth of chips left inside. She inwardly shrugged as she began to inch towards him, figuring that was better than nothing.

"Sam...?"

"Give me the chips, nub!"

"_Sam!_"

Two screams--one scared, one almost predator-like--and another hair tugging session later, and Sam stalked to sixth period with nothing but a still growling stomach, empty hands, and a gloom mood to go along with them.

Sam entered the classroom with Freddie at her heels, and took her usual seat in the far back corner. She immediately put her head down on the desk's cool surface, and sighed into the wood. A few seconds later, the sound of crinkling plastic made her ears perk, and she peered through her bangs to see a bag of Cheetos swinging right above her.

"Here," Freddie said, dropping the bag by her head. "I was saving them for later, but you can have them."

Sam didn't even thank him as she abruptly attacked the unopened bag. She let out a content sigh as the first cheesy, crunchy morsel found refugee in her mouth.

"So, did you do--"

"_Mmph!_" Sam furrowed her eyebrows, giving Freddie a look that clearly said she didn't want to make small talk with him at the moment, and just wanted to focus all her energy on the Cheetos at hand. Freddie sighed in defeat and turned his back to her just as the warning bell rang.

Sam finished the last crumb right when the second bell went off to begin class. She quickly crumpled up the bag and shoved it into Freddie's open backpack, too lazy to go and throw it away in the real garbage. Well _that_, but she also didn't want to have a run-in with Ms. Bumbleworth, who had just waltzed into the classroom wearing a dress that looked like someone had vomited orange gunk all over it.

"Alright, class," she began in her annoying, nasally voice, "please pass up your assignments that were due today."

Sam wondered why someone would actually buy a dress _so _ugly and seriously consider wearing it. Sure, she's seen some pretty ugly dresses in her life, but that one honestly took--wait, _what?_

"Huh?" Sam said, looking wildly around as everyone began to rummage through their folders. She turned and craned her head over Freddie's shoulder to see him pulling out what appeared to be a large packet. She leaned closer towards him, and whispered harshly in his ear, "_What_ assignment?"

"What?" Freddie replied, confused. He gave her a sideways glance. "Don't tell me you forgot about our final for this semester. We've been working on it for four weeks straight."

"_What?_" Sam barked. "Why didn't you tell me that was due today? I could have skipped!"

"I've been _trying _to, but you've been too busy trying to take care of your _always _unsatisfied stomach to listen," Freddie retorted, clearly exasperated. Sam groaned and fell back against her seat with a _thump_, her face dropping. Freddie maneuvered himself so he could see her more clearly, and arched an eyebrow. "Wait... you didn't do it?"

"_Of course_ I didn't do it, Freddweeb," Sam snapped. "I wouldn't be sitting here getting all freaked if I had done it, now would I?"

"Well I just thought the reason you slept during work time was because you were doing it at home."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Right, because I'm the type of person to save all my school crap for when I get home. Yup, Fredward, that's me to a tee." Freddie simply shrugged, and Sam let out a growl through her teeth and ran a nervous hand through her hair. "Alright, I just have to...." She snapped her fingers. "I got it."

Suddenly, Sam jumped to her feet and clutched at her chest dramatically. The sound of her desk scraping against the floor caused the majority of the classes heads to turn. Sam caught a brief glimpse of Freddie's expression before continuing her plan, his jaw unhinged and his eyes wide with surprise.

"Ooh, my chest! Ow! It's like my heart is aching and throbbing in dull pain! Ah! A-and my left... right... arm; s-shooting pains--"

"Sit down, Sam," Ms. Bumbleworth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'll be sure to be seeing you after class to discuss your absence of a paper, don't worry."

Sam scowled and sat down to the sound of quiet snickers. Freddie gave her a look of pity, but couldn't stop himself from snorting. Sam grumbled an obscenity at him--that was met with a light gasp--then placed her head once again on her desk, deciding then that, as usual, she should just sleep for the rest of the class period.

With a quiet yawn, Sam closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax and immediately fall into darkness.

-:-

_It was all the same as usual. The flashing multicolored lights. The marble floors. The soft, romantic music playing in the background. Sam was even still decked out in the same attire as she always was: a purple, salsa-type dress with black tights and purple heels to match. In other words, something she normally wouldn't be caught dead in. _

_But tonight, it didn't matter. Tonight was different. Tonight she was finally going to get the courage to say what she had been longing to say for two solid years. She was going to take in a large breath, close her eyes, and boldly admit loud and clear, "I lo-"_

_A giggle played against her ear, and Sam peered through her lashes to see what appeared to be two people slow-dancing in the distance. She couldn't quite make out who they were exactly, but they were definitely a boy and a girl, and they both appeared to be wearing blue. She tried to call out to them, but all she managed to do was feebly wheeze. _

_Quickly, they began to circle closer and closer to her. They started to go faster and faster towards her like they always did, until she could finally make out who they were. Two brunettes with brown eyes, holding each other for dear life, laughing and staring into each others' eyes lovingly. For some reason the sight made Sam's heart plummet, and her eyes began to sting when she recognized fully who they were (again)._

_It was Carly and Fre--_

-:-

Sam awoke with a start when the bell went off to signal class was over, and silently noted the cold sweat rolling down her forehead. She scanned the room to find that most of the students were already gone, and only a few slowpokes remained as they attempted to organize their stuff together. She caught sight of Freddie standing in the doorway, giving her yet another weird look, but, just like before, he simply shook his head and followed everyone else out of the classroom.

_Why do I keep having that dream? _Sam wondered, scratching her head and staring blankly at where Freddie just was. That had been the third time in the past month that dream had plagued her mind, and it was doing nothing but leaving the Puckette girl lost.

"Ah, Sam," Ms. Bumbleworth said when the door closed behind the last students, her cringe-inducing voice echoing off the walls. Sam jerked at her name being addressed. "How nice of you to join us awake people. Please, come here."

Sam slowly got up, and reluctantly ventured to the front where Ms. Bumbleworth sat at her desk. The lean, grey haired woman peered at Sam through her wired-rimmed glasses before looking down and folding her hands together on her desk.

"Now, Sam, tell me... what is it about English you find _so_ boring?"

"I dunno," Sam mumbled under her breath, shrugging one shoulder. She began to fiddle with the stapler on Ms. Bumbleworth's desk, the recent dream still leaving her in a slight daze. "I don't like to read."

"Yes, that became quite apparent to me when you used 'Hamlet' as spitballs," Ms. Bumbleworth grumbled, not having found the whole ordeal as humorous as Sam did at the time.

"I paid for it, didn't I?" Sam suddenly snapped. "Look, can you get to the point of this, lady? I have a Geometry class to go not pay attention in."

Ms. Bumbleworth sighed and rubbed eyebrow, "Sam, you do know that that paper was worth forty percent of your grade, correct?"

Sam shrugged her other shoulder. "Yeah, that might have crossed my mind."

"And you do know that by not turning it in, you fail this semester of English, a credit you most certainly need next year to graduate."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Well then you most also know you will most likely have to spend your vacation in Summer school in order to make up that credit." Sam opened her mouth to repeat her last statement once more, but Ms. Bumbleworth thoughtfully tapped her chin and continued, "I hear Ms. Briggs is the coordinator this year."

Sam dropped the stapler she was holding onto the dusty floor, the impact causing unused staples to scatter around at her feet. Her eyes grew wide to the size of dinner plates. "W-what? Y-you've got to be kidding me."

"Wish I was," Ms. Bumbleworth replied, shaking her head sadly.

"I-I'll... turn it in tomorrow! I _swear_."

Ms. Bumbleworth shook her head once more. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. The school board wants final grades in by three o' clock _today_. There is no possible way for you to turn it in any later than that."

Sam's mouth began to open and close like some fish out of water, making strange noises every now and then. Suddenly, after a few prolonged seconds, she fell to her knees and placed her hands together like she was praying, her exposed skin lightly scrapping against the discarded staples. Ms. Bumbleworth pushed her swirly chair back slightly, startled by the younger girl's actions.

"Please, _please _don't make me deal with Ms. Briggs during the summer. _Please! _I'll do _anything_. _Anything!_" she cried. She knew it was pathetic, but at the moment, she really didn't care. Sam had plans for the summer--mainly just sitting on Carly's couch, watching television and eating a bunch of ham, but plans nonetheless--and none of those included spending time with that she-demon in disguise.

"Is there anyway I can fix this besides," she gulped audibly, "Summer school?"

Ms. Bumbleworth looked sympathetic as she stared down at the pleading girl, but a few torturous pauses later, and her eyes practically began to light up. "Actually, yes, you can," she answered, a small smile tugging at the corners of her thin lips. "I am safe to assume that you are well aware that Wendy Carpenter had a bit of an accident earlier this week, and will be out for the remainder of the year, yes?"

Sam stood back up and nodded, recalling that a few days ago she had heard Carly say something had happened to Wendy when she had fallen in Chemistry class and sat down right on some spilled chemical. She remembered laughing hysterically, but now learning Wendy had been injured to the point where she couldn't even finish the rest of the school year, she felt a little guilty for doing so.

"I am sure you are also well aware of the Ridgeway Press and I am the person who runs it."

Once again, Sam nodded. The Ridgeway Press was a mediocre, pointless school newspaper that Ms. Bumbleworth had a handful of ignorant students work religiously on to get out every Tuesday, and one could usually find more copies in the trash than in peoples' hands. Sam herself only bothered to grab a couple copies every now and then because her mom's cats enjoyed using them as toilets.

"What you may not know, however, is that Wendy is 'Angie,' the newspaper's advice columnist," Ms. Bumbleworth said. Sam raised her eyebrows at this new piece of information; she had no idea Wendy had been one of those saps on the newspaper committee. "And considering the fact that Wendy is out for the rest of the year, that means I am out of an 'Angie' as well.

"So, I propose this: you fill in for her for the remainder of the year and become the new advice columnist... and I will pass you both semesters with solid C's. No other work needed."

If Sam had water in her mouth at the time, that would have been a perfect "spit take" moment.

"W-what? You're k-kidding. You gotta be. I mean... you know who you're talking to, right? I can't give advice to people!"

"I see a lot of potential in you, Sam, even if you don't see it yourself," Ms. Bumbleworth explained. "I see... someone with an opinion, and they're not afraid to say it. I've seen the way you speak to the other students; you're brutal, but honest. Fearless, honesty--it's the type of qualities a columnist must have. You may not be perfect, but you can relate to troubled students better that way, and I think you'll be excellent in giving your peers some quality, realistic advice."

Sam shook her head, contemplating in a silence that was only interrupted once when the bell for seventh period went off. A few more seconds after that, Sam looked up at Ms. Bumbleworth with a new spark of determination in her eyes.

"Make it a C+, and you got yourself a deal."

Ms. Bumbleworth gave a short laugh. "I like your spunk, Sam. I'll give you a C. You can take it or leave it, but I'd advice you to take it; not many teachers would be as willing to do something like this as I am...."

"_Errgh_... whatever, I guess I'll do it," Sam grumbled, slumping her shoulders. It was better than a Ms. Briggs-filled summer, that was for sure.... Actually, eating clams smothered in horseradish sauce would even be better than _that_.

Ms. Bumbleworth stood up and clapped her hands together, a broad grin spreading across her worn features. "Excellent! Now there are a few rules to being the advice columnist."

"Rules?" Sam mimicked, frowning.

"Yes, _rules_. Rule number one: confidentiality. This means you can neither a) tell anyone you are 'Anna,' nor-"

"'Anna'? I thought it was 'Ask Angie'?"

"Well, I think it's going to be a little obvious to the readers that there is a different person answering them, so your 'name' will be 'Anna,' which means it will be 'Ask Anna' from now on.

"So anyway, you must never tell anyone you are 'Anna,' nor can you b) give away the real name of the person writing to you if you _happen _to figure out who they are from their alias or other factors. Remember, despite what is written in the paper, _no one_ must know anything more about you or the people writing to you. You are not even allowed to tell your best friend in the whole world; if I find out you have, it's an automatic fail. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah." Sam waved her hand, dismissing it as no big deal. She could keep secrets. As long as there was no laughing gas involved, then it was no problem.

"Rule number two: punctuality. I want you here, on time, every day right after school. Monday through Thursday we work until five, and on Fridays we leave at four. Is that understandable?"

_Oh, great,_ Sam inwardly groaned. _I'm going to have to come up with some lame excuse as to why I'm staying after school all the time, and somehow get to Carly's before six everyday for iCarly rehearsals. Wonderful. _

"Yeah, okay."

"And rule number three: respect. You will treat me, the other students you're working with, and the people you are writing to with the utmost respect. I will be reading over your work to make sure there isn't anything less than politeness written, okay?"

Sam wanted to gag, but stopped herself before fully completing the gesture. Instead she managed to only get out what sounded like a strangled whimper, and she rapidly nodded her head to hide it as well as to show she heard all the rules loud and clear, and understood them.

"Excellent!" Ms. Bumbleworth exclaimed again. "Now I'll just write you a pass for seventh period, and you can be on your way."

The moment Sam stepped out of the classroom, she began to wonder if what just happened... really just happened. As if some cruel, unknown force decided to answer her, Ms. Bumbleworth strolled out right after her, and gave Sam yet another thin-lipped smile. "I'll be seeing you next week on Monday, _Anna_," she chuckled, before turning down the nearest hall and out of sight.

"I can't believe this. One minute you're throwing spitballs at nerds, the next you _are_ a nerd," Sam sighed to herself. "Well, look on the bright side, Sam ol' girl: you do this, and that means no Ms. Briggs this summer. And Ms. Bumbleworth _did _say no more English work either. Yeah... I guess this whole 'Anna' thing isn't all that bad..."

Sam looked down at the pass she was holding before deciding to crumple it up, and toss it over her shoulder. Geometry had already been going on for five minutes, missing the last forty wouldn't change anything. Besides, it was the last day for that semester anyway, and she already knew she passed that class with an impressive D+.

The blond first went to her locker to grab her hoodie, and then made her way to the nearest set of doors. The weather outside was rather cloudy and it looked like it was about to rain any second, but at least her house was close. Zipping up her dark red, plaid hoodie as far as it would go, Sam pushed the glass door open and made it out into the cool air before the alarm sounded for her to close the door.

-:-

**A/N: **Hey, hey, hey! Who told you I was dead? Well, I'm not! And I know that it may come as a shock, but no, your eyes are not playing tricks on you: I am actually writing a story for iCarly. (18 year old moi, you say? Yes, it's true.) It's just... I've been a fan of iCarly--mainly Seddie--for a while now, and only recently decided to express my love for it. So here's a new Seddie story/crazy Seddie-obsessed author to add to the iCarly fandom (because lord knows it doesn't have enough of those, lol). I tried to keep everyone in-character as much as I possibly could (sorry if I epic failed it), and hopefully it's not boring, even for a first chapter. So yeah, I have a basic idea where I want to take this story, and am really excited to write it (hopefully I actually finish a story for once though, lol). So yeah, any feedback would be great! Even flames. I'm not a huge fan of cold hot dogs, you know. ;)


	2. iMeet the Gang

**Disclaimer: **Like, no, like, I, like, totally don't, like, own it, like, like... _duh! _(Insert unnecessary eye-roll here.)

-:-

Chapter 2:

_iMeet the Gang_

-:-

The weekend came and went--which mainly consisted of fried chicken, old Girly Cow episodes, and crashing on Carly's couch--and before Sam knew it, the dreaded Monday morning had arrived. Her new classes went by in a somewhat blur--minus World History, where neither Freddie nor Mr. Yakal would shut their traps, and she nearly broke into dance when that seemingly endless torture was finally over--and once again, Sam was mentally unprepared for when the final bell rang to immediately remind her that her nightmare was only just getting started.

"So are you coming over then?" Carly asked when she met up with the blond girl near their lockers after school. Usually Sam would find the question pointless when the answer was always the same, but today was surprisingly--and unfortunately--different.

"Actually... I, uh... can't," Sam mumbled slowly, keeping her attention on her backpack, which she was currently zipping and unzipping mindlessly.

Carly raised her eyebrows. "Oh... why not?"

Sam sighed and glanced at the ceiling, knowing she was going to ask. She began to recite the first thing that came to mind. "I joined a club... an _exclusive _club... very private," she lied, her voice noticeably a bit more hesitant than normal. Lying was practically like a second language to her, but she could safely say it was difficult when Carly was on the other end of it.

"Okay?" Carly replied, obviously unconvinced. "So you can't even say what type of club it is then?"

"Well..." Sam snapped her locker shut, turned, and slung a friendly arm over Carly's shoulders, "I'm not suppose to tell anyone, but since you _are _my best friend, I guess it's okay to let you in on the secret. You gotta promise me you won't tell anyone though, not even Freddie--no, _especially _not Freddie, okay?" Carly nodded her head enthusiastically. "Alright, come on." She quickly led Carly to the nearest corner, spun her around, did a brief shoulder check then whispered, "It's a meat club...."

"A... _huh?_"

"A meat club."

"A _meat _club?"

"Yeah."

"Like... a club for the meat you eat?"

"Mmhmm."

"And where you talk about... _meat_?"

"Yup, pretty much."

Time seemed to be at a standstill as Carly momentarily gazed off into space as if in some sort of trance before shooting Sam a funny look and replying with, "Okay, that's just ridiculous."

"Look, I know it may be hard to believe, but it's true," Sam told her firmly.

"How come I've never heard of this club then?"

"Like I said before: very private."

"Why is a club like that 'private'?"

"Because if people knew, then everyone would just join it and take it as some joke! Only true, serious meat-lovers are allowed."

"But you're the only serious meat-lover I know at school!"

"There's more than you may think, Carls; they're just not as open about it as I am."

There was a few moments of silence as Carly suspiciously eyed Sam, who just stood there and stared back at the brunette with a blank look on her face. Suddenly, Carly sighed and her body relaxed. "Are you serious...?"

Sam placed a hand gingerly on Carly's shoulder. "Would I lie to you, Shay?" she asked, her tone uncharacteristically calm with a hint of false hurt to it.

"Yes," Carly said, grinning.

"Well, I'm not about this. I _swear_...."

"Alright, I believe you," Carly concluded after a slight pause, and Sam felt relief wash over her at those words. She couldn't help but feel a little guilty too, however; it's not like she didn't want to tell her the truth, she just couldn't. At least it was just a little white lie though. No big deal. "Wow... really? A meat club? They're seriously just making clubs for everything now, aren't they?"

"Well I think after the 'National Gum Club,' it was pretty much a free-for-all."

The two girls laughed, and began to idle converse with each other. Sam gave the details on how her "club" worked--how she had to go there all week, how long she had to stay there each day, etc. etc. Carly didn't seem that pleased with how close it ran with iCarly time, but Sam was able to assure her that she would be able to juggle both with no problems.

"And I'll even put my homework aside and dedicate all that time to coming up with new segments, alright?"

"Reassuring," Carly chuckled. "But... don't you do that anyway?"

"_No._ I put my homework aside, then sleep for two hours."

Carly rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, that's right. I forgot how much you need your beauty sleep, Princess Puckett."

Sam laughed, then took a quick peek at the clock on the wall. Her smile faltered when she saw how close the longer hand was to the six, and suddenly recalled Ms. Bumbleworth telling her she had to go straight to her classroom right after school; she was now ten minutes late!

"Oh, crab! I gotta get going."

"Yeah, same. Spencer's probably wondering where the heck I am. I'll see you later then, okay?"

"Yeah, later."

"Have fun!"

"Heh... right...."

Sam gave one final wave to her retreating friend before beginning her long journey to the other end of the school. She gradually began to pick up her pace each time she passed a clock, and by the time she reached the final hall, she was practically running like if she was in some sort of Olympic marathon.

"I'm here!" she cried, bursting into the familiar classroom and skidding to a halt.

"Sam," Ms. Bumbleworth said, standing up from her desk and smoothing out her skirt--which looked like it just came out of some crime scene with someone's blood splattered all over it, and Sam had to swallow back the retching sounds she wanted to make. The teacher's eyes narrowed. "You're late."

"Right, umm... sorry?"

"Sam, didn't I tell you how much punctuality was important? I said to be here, _on time_, everyday after school, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah, but I had to tell my friend _something_; it's not really like me to stay after school without some sort of reason."

"Hmm... look, I don't expect you to be here _exactly _after school--there's the locker and friend business, I understand. But when you show up five minutes after everyone else has already begun their work, then we have a problem."

Sam looked around the empty room. "Where is 'everyone' exactly?"

"That's not important right now."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Look, I just needed some extra time today so I could come up with a good enough excuse, alright?" she said, clearly becoming irritated. "It won't happen again; I got it all taken care off."

"Very well," Ms. Bumbleworth sighed after a brief moment. "I'll take your word for it, Sam, but next time there _will_ be consequences."

Sam rolled her eyes again and smirked; it was a little pathetic how Ms. Bumbleworth--this frail old woman--tried to come across as intimidating to _her _when the worst she could do was throw a detention at her. "Yeah, okay, I got it."

"Good. Now then, please follow me."

"Where are we going?" Sam questioned, watching Ms. Bumebleworth walk past her and out through the open door. She didn't say anything in response, just beckoned the blond to follow.

The two began venturing further down the hall, but they didn't have to go far before reaching a dead-end. Ms. Bumbleworth turned towards the last door on the right, opened it, and once again made a motion for Sam to follow her.

Sam stepped up beside Ms. Bumbleworth, and stared into the unknown room. What she was greeted with was about a million stakes of cluttered paper everywhere, a bunch of printers, computers and other large machines in use, and the distance sound of typing and shuffling noises. Once she actually walked in and maneuvered her way around a very huge pile of papers blocking the entrance, her eyes caught sight of a recognizable figure sitting hunched over a nearby table.

"_Gibby?_"

The boy in question jerked, and slowly turned his head towards her. "Oh, uh, hey, Sam. What are you doing here?" he asked nervously.

"What am _I _doing here? What are _you _doing here?"

"I work on the paper. I do the fashion section."

Sam arched an eyebrow. "Ms. Bumbleworth has the boy who wears the least amount of clothes doing _fashion_? _Brilliant._" She rolled her eyes, and, in the process, unintentionally snagged a quick glance at Gibby's legs under the table. At the sight, her mouth dropped and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "G-Gibby... are you not wearing _pants_?"

"Yeah," Gibby answered simply.

"_Why?_"

"Cause Ms. Bumbleworth won't let me take my shirt off. She still hasn't said anything about my pants yet. Besides, it gives my legs some air--isn't it boiling in here?" he noted, tugging at his collar.

Sam shook her head, horrified, baffled and disgusted all at the same time. "Okay, taking your shirt off is gross, kid. Taking your pants off is just creepy."

Gibby shrugged. "Yeah, I know."

"Then why are you--"

"_Hello!_" a squeaky but loud voice suddenly yelled in Sam's ear. Sam--after poking a finger in her ear to get it to stop ringing--looked over to see a smiling girl around her height with tight, blond ringlets that went to her chin, and striking green eyes behind a pair of black, plastic-rimmed glasses. She was clad in worn jean overalls, a plaid red shirt, and brown boots; in other words, she looked like a farmer.

"Uh, hi?" Sam grimaced.

"You must be Samantha--"

"_Sam_," Sam grumbled under her breath.

"--the new advise columnist."

"Really? _Sam?_" Gibby cut in, clearly both surprised and amused. Sam shot the shir--umm, pardon, the _pantless_ boy a piercing glare, and Gibby immediately shut his mouth and turned back to whatever it was he had been doing.

"I'm Olive Picklehorn," the other blond continued, completely oblivious to the interruption.

Sam made a face. "_Really?_"

"I'm the chief editor of the Ridgeway Press," Olive added, ignoring Sam's comment.

"You poor girl," Sam gasped sarcastically, but again Olive ignored her.

"Ms. Bumbleworth asked me if I could maybe show you around and introduce you to everyone, and of course I was delighted to," the peppy girl continued, and Sam was quite certain there was no lifelong friendship happening here any time soon.

"It seems like you're already acquainted with Gibby. Over there is Mitchell Orwell, but he prefers 'Raven.' He does sports," Olive explained, motioning over to an extremely skinny, pale boy decked out in black from head to toe, with shaggy, dark hair to match. Sam couldn't quite make out his face from her angle, but she was certain she'd find a pair of red eyes and pointy fangs if she could.

"_He _does sports?"

"Oh, don't be fooled by his appearance. Raven is a genius when it comes to cricket and chess."

"Is he now?" Sam snorted. "I didn't know Ridgeway had a cricket team."

"Well, we don't.... Raven was just the only one of us with at least _some_ knowledge of any sport. You see... not many jocks really consider signing up for the paper most of the time," Olive said sadly.

"I can't imagine why," Sam mumbled.

"Over there is Stacy and Kelly Baskin. They're twin sisters. Stacy does gossip, and Kelly does reviews."

Sam looked to where Olive was pointing, and noticed two girls sitting side-by-side who looked identical in practically every way. They both had straight red hair, honey-colored eyes, and even matching, ruffled dresses except for the fact that ones was green, the others was pink. Sam quickly concluded then that if her mom had even _thought_ about doing something like that with her and Melanie _ever_, she was calling child services as immediate as possible.

"And I myself do basically all the polls and big stories; you know, front page stuff. Remember back in October when there was that huge 'cafeteria' scandal with the old meat? Well, after finding out about that and writing about it in the paper, I bet you you still can't find any beef tacos in this school now, can you?"

"_Wait_... _you're_ the one who got rid of Taco Monday Madness?"

Olive nodded, a broad, proud grin spreading across her lips. "That's right...."

Sam's teeth began to grind together and her arms started to grow rigid. She had sworn that if she ever found out who was behind getting rid of the best lunch that school had to offer, she would pummel them to a bloody pulp without any second thoughts.

"Why you--"

"Ah, thank you, Olive, for being so kind to Sam," Ms. Bumbleworth's voice spoke up from behind them. Sam let in a few large breaths to relax herself, not wanting to start anything in front of the older woman and just deciding to deal with that particular matter later.

"It was my pleasure, _Madame_," Olive said sweetly, folding her hands behind her back.

"Madame?" Sam whispered to herself, feeling a sudden urge to puke.

"Sam, come with me please. I have a few things I'd like to discuss with you to help get you started," Ms. Bumbleworth said, clicking her heels around and walking over to an unoccupied desk with a shockingly small pile of papers on top of it.

"I'll talk to you later, Samantha," Olive said, not even waiting for the other girl to reply before disappearing into the mountains of papers.

"Arrgh--my name is _Sam!_ S-A-M! Got it?" Sam cried.

"We got it, Sam. Now please come here," Ms. Bumbleworth said calmly, waving her over. Sam sighed in frustration and briskly stalked over to where the teacher stood. "Now, I kind of just wanted you to come today to see how we deal with printing and such; everyone is basically just working on their last minute touches for tomorrows paper, and we will begin printing shortly.

"I already have a small introduction for you that will go in tomorrow's paper, so you won't be beginning any actual work until Wednesday, in which your letters will start arriving. People can send in letters both Wednesday and Thursday, and by Friday, you should pick the best two and begin working on your replies.

"As for right now, I have a small pile of letters that were for 'Angie,' but considering these new circumstances, I've decided to just let you read them so you can get a basic feel on what to expect. Alright then?"

Sam gave a curt nod. Ms. Bumbleworth in return gave a small smile, wished her luck, and walked off to do who knows what. Sam sighed and sat down at the vacant seat in front of her, and randomly picked up the first letter laying on top:

_Dear Angie,_

_So, like, my boyfriend, like, totally like--_

"Next," Sam grumbled, tossing the letter to the floor and picking up the next one:

_Dear Angie,_

_I don't know what to do! I've seriously tried everything! I've tried changing my diet, special ointments, but nothing seems to be working! So, I have to ask you: how do you get rid of a rash?_

_Signed,_

_Rashyboy_

"Oh, sweet chizz. This can not be for real," Sam choked out, feeling sick. She began to make slight gagging noises as she dropped the letter as if it had burnt her. She slowly reached for the next letter, a bit more nervous this time to read what it said:

_Dear Angie,_

_This is a bit of a touchy subject for me, but here goes. _

_I know my older brother has been stealing from me for some time now. First it started off as just makeup, but lately he's been getting into my closet and even my pantie drawer--_

Sam's mouth dropped. "What the ham?"

_--and I don't know how to confront him about it! I mean, how do you call your brother out for stealing things like that? I want to tell him to stop so bad because I'm getting sick of it, but I don't want to embarrass him or anything. Oh, what should I do?_

_Signed,_

_DesperatelyDraggedOut_

Sam sat in a stunned silence for a few seconds before adding that letter to the other discarded ones on the ground. "Okay... you can do this, Sam," she told herself before taking in a deep breath and grabbing the next letter:

_Dear Angie,_

_So we just bought this new chicken, right? For my little sister and stuff. Well... I kind of killed it on accident, and ate it to get rid of it. I told my sister it flew away and she seemed okay with that, but I feel so bad for lying. Should I tell her the truth even though I know how much it will hurt her?_

_Signed,_

_The Kentucky Fried Killer  
_

"_Ugh! _Really!? Are they all _insane_ like this? How am I suppose to give advice on this jank? What did Ms. Bumbleworth even mean by 'relating' anyway? I can't relate to any of this stuff!" Sam cried, forcefully throwing the letter in her hands to the ground. She was just about to grab the next one--curious to see it was typed out instead of handwritten like all the other ones--when a loud, spluttering sound filled the room and caused her to turn.

"Uh, Ms. Bumbleworth? I-I think there might be s-something wrong with the copier again," the Baskin twin in green--Sam figured that one was Stacy--stuttered nervously, standing next to said machine as it made weird noises and shook.

"Oh, God, not this again," Ms. Bumbleworth cried, frantically running over to examine the problem, her arms flailing.

"Here, I might know what's wrong," Gibby said, standing up and exposing his bare legs.

Ms. Bumbleworth let out a huge gasp, placed a hand to her chest and began to fan herself when she saw what Gibby was--or, more appropriately, _wasn't_--wearing. "_Gibby!_ Why aren't you wearing pants?"

"Oh... well, you see--"

And so Gibby and Ms. Bumbleworth began a shouting match about the pros and cons of wearing pants as the copier continued to get louder and louder, and eventually began to smoke and shoot out paper which caused everyone else to scream. Sam--feeling a headache coming on--pressed her forehead onto the desk's surface and tried her best to drown everything out.

"What have I gotten myself in to...?"

-:-

**A/N: **Okay, _first _I'd like to start by thanking everyone for either faving, alerting, or reviewing this story (I'd also like to personally thank the two anonymous reviews I didn't get to reply to); it means a lot to me, and I really can't believe how much feedback I got, so thanks a ton! Second, I _really_ hoped you liked this chapter; it was really fun to write, and it was also fun coming up with the new characters' names (I personally love Olive Picklehorn, haha), as well as giving Gibby a new dimension, lol! Oh yes, and I'm still waiting on my flame here; this fire isn't going to light itself! :( lol, so thanks again, and I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as I can. :)


	3. iAm Not Cut Out For This

**Disclaimer: **Na-na-na-no!

-:-

Chapter 3:

_iAm Not Cut Out For This_

-:-

After Monday's meeting ended with Sam--growing irritated by all the commotion--slamming her foot against the copy machine, causing it to stop working altogether with only forty or so newspapers published, the blond was less than excited to return the following day, and if it wasn't for the tiny voice in the back of her head reminding her why she was even putting up with all of this in the first place, she would have skipped.

Sam entered the classroom, relieved she wasn't late and had to put up with more of Ms. Bumbleworth's scolding, and was surprised to find it paper-free, with a large, round table in the middle where everyone was already currently sitting and chatting. Ms. Bumbleworth stood where the copier once was, arguing with a man who Sam recognized as one of the janitors, Harold.

"What do you mean it will take two to four weeks to get the copier fixed!?"

"That's... basically what I mean."

"And what are we suppose to use until then, huh? We have a newspaper to publish, you know!"

"Mr. Miller has already agreed you can use his for the time being."

"That ancient piece of junk!?"

Sam began to tune out their banter, no longer interested. Instead she began to focus on something that made her heart soar, her mouth water, and her mind tell her that maybe going that day wasn't the worst idea in the world: food. Piles and piles of chips, cookies, donuts and, best of all, fat cakes were scattered all across the newly placed table. There was also two large pitchers of what appeared to be orange juice, with Styrofoam cups propped up beside them.

"What's all this for?" Sam questioned, not even waiting for an answer as she plopped down next to Gibby, grabbed the nearest sugar cookie, and sunk her teeth into it.

"We do this every Tuesday to celebrate another successful week. Course... this week wasn't the most successful, but oh well."

"Mmught!" Sam cried incoherently through a mouthful of cookie. She managed to finish it off in three bites, and immediately began to tear at the wrapper of a low fat fat cake when she took in Gibby's full appearance. "You're shirtless again," she noted.

"Yup." Gibby stuck his chest out as if to emphasize her observation. "Ms. Bumbleworth and me came up with an agreement: I'll keep my pants on if I can keep my shirt off. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah... sure...," Sam trailed off, disgusted either way.

"Attention! _Attention!_" Ms. Bumbleworth announced, suddenly appearing at the front of the table with her arms spread wide. She looked worn, and her hair was much more wild than usual. When the table quieted down, she continued in a exhausted voice and placed a hand to her forehead, "Alright. Now, the copier is going to take a few weeks to fix, so we will be using a temporary copier for the time being--"

"This is all Samantha's fault," Olive cut-in bitterly, forcing Sam to sit straight up, her fists to clench around her snack, and a venomous scowl to overtake her features.

"My fault? And my name's _Sam_--!"

"If you hadn't of let your anger problems get in the way and kicked it, it'd still be working--"

"Excuse me? Anger problems? I'll show you anger problems, Goldilocks!"

Sam quickly shoved a fat cake into her mouth, then proceeded to jump up onto the table and crawl over to where Olive sat. Chaos abruptly ensued. Gibby and Ms. Bumbleworth began to call out for her to stop, the Baskin twins started screaming in perfect, high-pitched unison, and Olive, looking completely petrified, yelled for the Puckett girl to get away from her. Raven seemed to be the only one unfazed by the whole ordeal as he quietly sat with his head on the table.

It took both Gibby and Ms. Bumbleworth to pry the heated girl off the terrified one, and the latter was lucky enough to get out of it with only a couple bruises, tangled hair, and fat cake cream all over her face. Sam, still furious as she wrestled to break free from Gibby's surprisingly strong hold, spit some food from her mouth out onto the girl's overalls.

"_Gross!_" Olive exclaimed through angry, scared tears.

"And that's for Taco Monday Madness!"

"Sam! Come with me this instant!" Ms. Bumbleworth barked as she grabbed the struggling girl by the arm, and practically dragged her out into the hall.

"Hey, hey, you can't manhandle students!" Sam cried, yanking her arm free and rubbing her sleeve.

"After that stunt you just pulled, I should do more than just 'manhandle' you," the teacher replied through gritted teeth, a dark look crossing her features that even sent a chill down Sam's spine. "This is your second day, and you already attack one of your teammates?"

"B-but she said--"

"I don't care what she _said_, Sam, your actions were uncalled for. Now this is your one and only warning: you do something like that again, and you will be receiving _more_ than just summer school with Ms. Briggs and detention, do you understand?"

Sam gulped, not liking the way she said that. She nodded slowly.

Ms. Bumbleworth heaved a sigh, "Good. Now I'm going to go back inside and make sure Olive is okay. I suggest that maybe you should head home and calm down, and come back tomorrow with a fresh and better attitude, alright?"

Sam opened her mouth to protest, all that uneaten food flashing through her head, but Ms. Bumbleworth didn't even bother to wait and listen; she simply clicked her heels around, strolled back into the classroom, and slammed the door shut right in the younger girl's face. Sam stared at the closed door for a few seconds before letting out a frustrated growl, and headed towards the direction of the exit.

-:-

"You're letting that... that _monster_ back in here?" was the greeting Sam received upon entering the classroom the following day from a less than thrilled Olive. It took every last ounce of patience Sam possessed to push her anger aside and ignore her, and mind you, she didn't have much of it.

"Olive, please get back to work. We're done discussing this," Ms. Bumbleworth sighed, clearly not in the mood. Olive narrowed her eyes in Sam's direction, in which Sam retorted with childishly sticking out her tongue. With a scoff, Olive stalked away with her nose in the air, a purplish-blue splat visible on her cheek that Sam couldn't help but snort at.

"Here," Ms. Bumbleworth started, shoving some papers under Sam's nose. The blond curiously grabbed them, and began to scan through them. "These are the letters you have received. I'm going to tell you now that you will rarely ever get any more letters the following day. Now I usually wish for you to do two of these, but considering this is your first column, if you would only like to do one to start off with, I'd understand."

Ms. Bumbleworth bid Sam a 'good luck' before wandering over to where the twins sat. Sam eyed the letters for a second, a disgruntled expression morphing on her face, before grabbing a random one from the middle of the pile and tossing the rest in a nearby trash can because she didn't want to A) deal with the torture of reading a bunch of people's disturbing problems again, and B) well, she didn't want to read at all, really.

Sam grabbed the nearest empty seat, not knowing she had sat down next to anyone until she looked slowly to her left, feeling someone's gaze on her. She was surprised--and slightly freaked out--to find a handsome boy wearing Raven's clothes intently staring at her with dark brown eyes, and she mentally kicked herself when it took her a "brilliant" total of five seconds to realize this boy _was _Raven.

"Nice job with Olive yesterday. I never thought anyone could get that girl to shut up, but she's barely said two words since you... well, you know," he said with a small grin. Sam was surprised to find he sounded fairly... well, normal. She was sort of expecting some deep, satanic voice to start babbling in tongues when she finally did hear him speak, not... _that_. She also definitely didn't expect him to be so... _hot_.

"Oh, umm... thanks?" Sam felt her face heat up slightly. _Whoa, what's going on? Mama doesn't blush!_

Raven shrugged and turned away, opening a book up that read "Tennis For Morons." Sam shook her head when she realized she was still mindlessly staring at him after a few moments, and began to read the single letter she held, a faint, pink hue still visible on her cheeks:

_Dear Anna,_

_Hmm, such a terrible shame about Angie._

"'Terrible shame'?" Sam mouthed, squinting to make sure she read that correctly. She had. "Ooh great...."

_She seemed like such a lovely girl, I sure hope she is alright. Oh, it would be ever so horrible if--_

"Okay, blah blah blah, next paragraph."

_Anyway, to get to the point, I have a bit of a... problem. You see... I'm gay._

"Really?" Sam smirked.

_It's just... ever so difficult, because my parents are very conservative, my brother is the prodigy child with Bipolar disorder and my sister is disabled--_

Sam crumpled up the paper, and threw it over her shoulder. "Sorry, you have way too many serious issues, kid."

The blond--suddenly feeling a nap coming on--stretched and let out a huge yawn, kicked her legs up onto the table, placed her hands behind her head, closed her eyes and leaned back slightly in her chair.

"Ms. Bumbleworth doesn't like us sleeping on the job," Gibby's voice spoke up, all of a sudden appearing besides the relaxing girl. Sam cracked an eye open a slit, not pleased with him randomly popping up next to her.

"Get lost, Gibzilla."

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn--"

"Sam!" Sam jumped at her name being addressed in such a harsh tone.

"Told you."

"What are you doing?" Ms. Bumbleworth yelled, walking over to the pair. Sam turned... and abruptly began to laugh hysterically.

"What are you _wearing_?"

Ms. Bumbleworth's shirt was... hideous, to say the least. It was yellow, fuzzy, and there was what looked like a green chicken throwing up brown cats printed on it... actually, that's _exactly_ what it was. The older woman had been wearing a seemingly normal jacket before and during English, so Sam hadn't gotten the pleasure to see it earlier. Oh sweet chizz, it was possibly the grossest most hilarious thing she had ever worn, and that was really, _really_ saying something.

The teacher frowned. "My mother gave me this shirt before she died."

"Well your mom had some _really _bad taste."

Ms. Bumbleworth made a face, but she let it slide with a shake of her head. "_Anyway_, what are you doing? Where are all those letters I just gave you?"

"Yeah, I threw them away."

"What!? Why?"

"All of them were whack."

"So you mean to tell me you read through fifteen letters in the course of... ten minutes?"

"Umm... yeah?"

Ms. Bumbleworth pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, "Sam, my patience for you is running extremely slim at this point. Now you go and dig those letters out, pick one, and I want a response from you by the end of _today_, got it?"

Sam's jaw dropped. "_What?_ I thought I had until Monday! That's not fair!"

"Neither is the way you treat someone who's doing you a favor. Now _go _before I change my mind and make you leave again, and this time, _not_ come back," she snapped, before walking away yet again without waiting for a reply from the aggressive student.

Sam gaped at her retreating form, feeling completely cheated and upset. Gibby stared at Sam with a smug look that said "I told you so," and Sam instantly snarled right in his face, causing him to yelp and scurry away. She let out a defeated sigh as she got up, and sluggishly moved over to the familiar trash can, forcefully snatched out a handful of random paper, and returned to her seat.

"Okay, let's see here... okay, this isn't a letter... this one is... this one is some sort of magazine clipping of Old Moon... this is a piece of gum--ah, jackpot!" Sam unwrapped the flavorful morsel, and contently placed it in her mouth. "Alright, and... this one is a letter. Alright, two letters... that works."

Sam brushed her hair aside as she picked up the closer one:

_Yo, Anna,_

"Well that's a promising start...."

_So, there's this woman that makes the popcorn in my freezer melt. _

"Oh, dear ham," Sam groaned, already well aware who this was from, and which "woman" made their "popcorn melt." She should have figured they'd resort to something like this....

_She's two spoonfuls more of the average grade-A sugar, and her honey is sweet whistling show-tunes. I wanna be the cookie to her crops, but breakfast is not my style, and she don't seem to want to dance with some of my electric surges. How do I get this mars bar to want to be my yogurt licking fuzzball? She's already broken the beat in my light switch many times before...._

_Signed,_

_The Smoothie Drinking Candle Flame_

Sam rolled her eyes when she finished. Rueban was one persistent idiot, that was for sure. Sam had tried multiply times to shoot the boy down--she didn't even know how many times she's told him to "kill the swagger in his step, this gravy train was rolling down main street"--and the end result was always the same: he'd run off crying, then return promptly an hour later for more. He was like a worse version of Fredweird with a speech problem. It also really didn't help much that she tended to always get stuck with him in at least one of her classes each semester.

Sam, deciding this was the perfect opportunity to get him to leave her alone for good, pulled out a notebook and pen, ripped out a blank sheet, pressed the pen to her lip in thought for a couple seconds, then furiously began to write a reply:

_Dear The Smoothie Drinking Candle Flame,_

"_Uggh_," Sam grumbled, feeling ridiculous.

_Sorry to break your nunchucks, but if that girl still doesn't get the oval in your donuts, she doesn't want your snowballing shoe stones. You better move your cargo plane to the next gas station, and pick up a new tuna sandwich--it's obvious your pinning is going no where but a back stage pass to Carney covered in ointment. You really are a bubble gum spitting crab cracker._

_Peace, Anna._

A wide smile spread across Sam's features as she finished and proof-read through her work. It was brilliant. It was ingenious. It was--

"No."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed together. "_What?_ What do you mean 'no'?"

"I _mean_, you're not putting this dribble in my newspaper," Ms. Bumbleworth explained, handing the two papers back to Sam. Sam took them with a scowl. "Go back and actually be serious this time. That was truly appalling."

"_Uggh!_" Sam folded her arms across her stomach and huffed when she sat back down. Her vision wandered over to the other letter, the words printed on it written out in fluent cursive with pink, sparkling ink that hurt her eyes. She was far too drained to get back up and search for more, so she decided then that she would reply to that particular letter, no matter what it said:

_Dear Anna,_

_I'm really confused right now. I like-like one of my good friends, but the thing is... she's a girl. And I'm a girl. Now I may be wrong, but I don't think girls are suppose to like girls like that... Oh, this is all just too much! What should I do? I don't want to like her, but I can't help it! She's so pretty, and smart, and funny... it's really hard to pretend around her, and it just keeps getting harder. Should I tell her, or keep it to myself and hopefully it will go away?_

_Sincerely,_

_lovestukk_

Sam blankly repeated the process of getting her supplies together, and didn't even think as she began to mindlessly write; she was at the point where she didn't even care anymore, she just wanted to get the stupid thing over with so she could get the heck out of there:

_Dear lovestrukk,_

_Sorry to hear about your dilemma. That must suck big time. If I were you, I would just tell her--there's no point in lying to yourself and her and stuff. Stop being such a little wuss--_

Sam stopped, realizing Ms. Bumbleworth would probably be all "Sam, you can't say something like that" in her nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. She quickly scratched out that last part, then continued:

_She has a right to know. And hey, it probably won't go as bad as you think--if she really is that good of a friend and doesn't return your feelings, she'll understand how hard it was for you to confess, or whatever. And I doubt it's going to go away, so you should just get it off your chest. Hope this helps._

_Peace, Anna._

Sam moved her mouth from side-to-side as she read over her words. That seemed... okay, didn't it? It seemed like helpful advice to her anyway. Why shouldn't the girl tell her friend? It's better than practically lying....

_Oh, who even cares? _Sam thought, once more standing up and heading over to where Ms. Bumbleworth was. _She better just approve this dumb thing so I can be done with it and leave._

"Here," Sam said, thrusting it and the original letter towards Ms. Bumbleworth. Ms. Bumbleworth looked up from the paper she was currently reading, and arched an eyebrow.

"That was fast," she noted, taking the papers from Sam's outstretched hand.

Sam shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah, well...."

The next three minutes passed by with frequent "hmm's" and "that's interesting's," leaving Sam anxious as she impatiently bounced on the balls of her feet.

"Hmm--"

"Okay!?" Sam said, exasperated, throwing her arms in the air.

"Well, it's better... but--"

"Ergh, _what?_"

"You have so much more potential, Sam. Did you even think when you wrote this?"

Sam shuffled her feet. "Yeah...."

"And are you _sure_ this is your utmost best? This is what you wish for us to print, and the advice you want to give this girl?"

"Yes! What's the problem with it?"

"Nothing...," Ms. Bumbleworth answered, but her tone said otherwise. Sam chose to remain silent, not really caring for her to elaborate. Ms. Bumbleworth opened one of the drawers on her desk, and slipped the two pieces of paper inside it. "Very well. Now considering how early you've finished this week, I don't see how it would be an issue if you were absent until Tuesday."

Sam's sour mood brightened when she heard that, and her whole body perked up with excitement. "Really?"

"Sure," Ms. Bumbleworth said, giving her the tiniest of smiles that oddly resembled a grimace. Once again, Sam kept her mouth shut about her observation. "I'll see you in English tomorrow, and here next week, alright?"

"Awesome!" Sam yelled triumphantly, dashing over to grab her bag. After snatching it up, she quickly bolted from the room without so much as a "goodbye" to anyone, even Gibby, who awkwardly held his hand up in farewell.

-:-

The week passed by like any other typical week. Sam gave some lame excuse to Carly on why she wasn't going to her club meetings--"The leader ate some tainted meat, and canceled until next Tuesday"--and iCarly was once again another huge success. The only thing that seemed a little bit off was Freddie, but Sam excused that as him always being abnormal.

Of course, she couldn't deny how extra weird he was acting lately. Most of the time he was on his computer, typing like a madman, mumbling to himself, being extremely secretive. Sam had attempted to catch a peek of what he was working so hard on at one point, and the results were much more than she had expected.

"Whatcha doin', Frederly?" Sam asked, placing her chin on the boy in question's shoulder, trying to snag a tidbit of the blurry words written on his screen. Sam had found Freddie by himself in the studio sitting on one of the bean bags, not surprised to find him typing away like no tomorrow. He seemed to have been so into it that he didn't even budge slightly when she strolled through the door, and fell down on the bean bag right beside him.

Freddie jumped, most likely from the contact and the shock that she was right next to him suddenly, and quickly slammed his laptop shut. "N-nothing," he stuttered, shaking her off.

"Really?" Sam said, raising her eyebrows. Freddie nodded rapidly, making "mmhmm" noises as he did so. Sam shrugged and got up, acting as if she was about to leave as she slowly strolled towards the exit. "Whatever, Freddork. You're probably just writing some lame Galaxy War fanfiction."

Freddie watched her with narrowed eyes as she made it to the door, turned the knob, and nonchalantly walked out into the hall. Sam moved to press herself against the wall so she was concealed from his line of vision, waited about thirty seconds, then looked inside the studio to see he had resorted to typing again, his back facing her.

"Alright, in five... four... three... two..."

Sam busted through the door, ran straight towards him, grabbed his laptop out right from under him, and ran to the other end of the studio. Freddie's jaw unhinged and his eyes bulged on first reaction, and it took him a few pauses to get over the initial surprise in order to get up and chase after her.

"Alright, what do we have here!?" Sam said, attempting to open the laptop back up and run from him at the same time proving more difficult than she had thought it would. They ran around in circles several times, Freddie screaming for her to give his computer back, Sam laughing cruelly as she continued to dodge him. She had just managed to get it opened and the screen to light up, stopping for a brief second to do so, when she felt a rough, forceful impact collide with her side, causing her to tumble.

"_Ah!_"

Sam hit the ground with a _thud! _the laptop falling right on her chest. She moaned in agony, a small sigh of relief escaping from her lips when the weight on her chest was released a few moments later. She cracked her eyes open slightly, having closed them during the fall, when she saw Freddie glaring down at her as he possessively held his laptop closed to him.

"Why can't you just learn to respect people's privacy?" he hissed.

"What's your problem?" Sam managed to croak out, using her arms as support so she could sit up slightly. "And when did you get so _strong_?"

"Just leave my stuff alone, Puckett. If I wanted you to know what I was doing, I would tell you." With that, Freddie stomped towards the exit, slamming the door shut on his way out for effect.

Sam continued to moan as she brought herself back to her feet, and she lifted her shirt slightly to where he had rammed into her to find a bruise was already forming.

"Jerk," Sam mumbled under her breath, vowing right then and there that she would figure out what he was doing if it killed her. If it was something worse than Nug-Nug smut stories--though nothing quite sprung to mind that could possibly be worse--she _had _to know.

-:-

Freddie apologized the following day, his eyes averted towards his shoes in both embarrassment and shame. Sam shrugged to show him it was alright, and added with a mischievous grin, "Actually, that was pretty awesome. I never thought you'd ever get the best of me like that, _ever_."

Freddie gave her his trademark crooked smile in return, and his ears began to turn a light reddish color. Sam's smile turned soft at the sight, and she couldn't help but notice how cute he--

_Ah, wait, what!? Shut _up_, brain!_

Tuesday came rolling around before Sam knew it, and she found herself in a crappy mood as the day seemed to go by at a speedy pace. (The only thing that gave her a small amount of happiness was seeing her column printed in the newspaper; as much as she hated to admit it, she was a little proud--nothing she's ever written had ever been published before for other's to read.) Her attitude was much more hostile and acrimonious because of this, and she wasn't totally astonished when she found herself standing out in the hallway during fifth period after making a crack at Mr. Peril's obvious toupee--"It looks like a squirrel crawled up there and died."

"What? What is it you have to tell me so bad?" a female voice said anxiously from around the corner. Sam's ears twitched when they heard this; she had been picking at her nails as a form of entertainment, but maybe hearing someone else's gossip would be more fun.... No, that would _definitely_ be more fun.

"Well, I... I, uh...," another voice--also female--began.

Sam glanced to where the voices were originating from, and found two fairly pretty girls with miniskirts and tank tops--one with brown hair, the other with red--facing each other. The one with red hair--who was also slightly shorter--stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the nervous brunette with an impatient look on her face. What really caught Sam's attention, however, was the thing the taller girl was currently wringing in her shaking hands: a copy of the most recent Ridegway Press.

"I... I like you, okay?" the brunette blurted out.

The redhead laughed, "Okay, you dragged me out of class to say _that_? I like you too, Emily. Why are you so scared?"

"No, I... I... I-I like-like you..."

Sam's eyes widened. "_lovestrukk_?" she whispered.

The redhead's eyebrows lowered. "What... what do you mean... like-like?"

"W-well, you're smart... and really pretty... and--"

"Okay...," the redhead interrupted, looking as pale as a ghost. "Just... Emily... just... stop. Maybe... maybe we shouldn't hang out for a while... or anymore." She didn't even wait for Emily's response before pushing past her, and dashing down the hall and out of sight.

"Kelly!" Emily cried out, but it was too late. Sam watched as her hazel eyes began to gloss over, and a few seconds later, she was letting out a predator like scream, ripped the newspaper into shreds, and tore down the opposite hall sobbing.

Sam stood as frozen as a statue for a few heartbeats before turning back to pressing herself against the wall. She looked off into space for a few seconds, her mind a blur of confusion and other horrible emotions she couldn't quite place, and then resorted to picking at her nails again, a newly found lump in her throat and a small pang of pain in the bottom of her chest that she couldn't describe even if she tried.

Suddenly, the door to her Chemistry class opened.

"Alright, Miss Puckett, now you can come back in if you just apologize to me for what you said," Mr. Peril explained with a forgiving smile.

"I'm sorry," Sam grounded out, monotone. Mr. Peril's smile widened, and he maneuvered himself so she had just enough room to slip past him and back into the classroom. Sam, however, quickly added with a smirk, "I meant to say 'chipmunk,' not a 'squirrel.'" Mr. Peril's happy demeanor turned off like a light switch. He growled in frustration and promptly slammed the door shut again. Sam laughed with amusement, which allowed her to cover up the unexplainable distress she was currently feeling.

Of course, only for a moment.

-:-

**A/N: **_Ah! _I'm back! Now I know you must all be annoyed with me for two blatant reasons, correct?

1)It took me about fifty years to update, and I'm sorry! Things have been a little difficult for me at the moment, and I had like no time. Hmm... how should I put this? Well, my mom is crazy... I guess you can say I have a Sam home-life with a more Carly-like personality... yeah, that works, lol. It's all figured out now; I moved in with my sister, heh. Also... writer's block. This chapter was **hard**, lol. Hopefully its **gigantic **length makes up for it! :D

2)I didn't reply to any of you, and I'm sorry. It's not that I don't appreciate your reviews, because I really do, but like I said, it's just been hard to find the time. And it might still be. I will try to reply from now on, so please don't stop reviewing because it felt like I wasn't thankful, cause I swear I am, lol.

So yeah. Phew, that was a long one. I'd also like to take this time to personally thank my first flamer. Tear. This really is an amazing moment I never thought would happen... I'm so grateful! lol! But yeah, thank you to everyone! You're all amazing! I'll get the next chapter up much faster than I did this one, I promise. :)

**Next chapter: **iMeet TechWiz. That's when the fun _really _begins. ;)


	4. iMeet TechWiz

**Disclaimer: **One, two, three, I don't own iCarly. Four, five, six... popsicle stick...?

-:-

Chapter 4:

_iMeet TechWiz_

-:-

After skipping Tuesday's party because of a minor "headache," Sam returned the following day to find a pile of letters anxiously awaiting her, much to her discontentment. She had decided to sit in the far back corner away from everyone so not to be bothered, and was simply staring at the letters without making any moves to read them. For some reason, the scene of that girl bursting into tears wouldn't leave her mind and it had left her in a slight daze.

"Sam...?_ Sam!_"

Sam's whole body shook and her eyes began to rapidly blink, as if she was suddenly waking up from some sort of trance. She slowly looked to her side to see Ms. Bumbleworth staring at her intensely, concern swimming in her eyes.

"Sam, are you okay?"

"I-I...." Sam opened her mouth, then abruptly closed it. She decided to just nod.

"You sure? You've just been sitting here not--"

"_Yes_," Sam hissed, frowning and furrowing her eyebrows. She quickly turned away from the aggravating teacher and folded her arms across her chest in a huff, trying in vain to ignore the mental image of two watery, hazel eyes.

_Argh, why do I even care? It's just some random girl I don't even know; I should care less that her stupid girl crush was unrequited. _Sam glanced up at the anti-smoking poster directly in front of her, and bit down on her bottom lip.

_Then why do I feel so... so--guilty? Is that what this is? _

Ms. Bumbleworth let out an audible sigh. "Sam, look... it's perfectly understandable for you to feel remorse for that _lovestrukk_ girl." Sam's eyes widened, and she snapped her head back in Ms. Bumbleworth's direction so fast, she was surprised it didn't do a complete three-sixty. She was just about to ask "how," but the older woman cut her off with a shrug and a, "Lucky guess?"

Sam scoffed, "Yeah, well... I don't care _that _much, if that's what you think. I just... feel a _little_ bad, I guess....I don't even understand why though; it's not even my fault her friend reacted the way she did."

"You play a larger role than you may think, Sam; giving advice can effect peoples' actions and judgment, and choosing what to tell a person in a troubling predicament should take time and consideration; _not_ five minutes. The words you write can be just as rewarding as a first kiss... or as punishing as a punch to the throat." Ms. Bumbleworth placed a hand gingerly on Sam's shoulder, who, surprisingly, didn't shrug it off. "Remember that."

Despite herself, Sam smirked. "What, are you like some guru now?" she snickered.

"Oh, I wish; they probably get paid way more than me," Ms. Bumbleworth laughed, standing up. She gave Sam a friendly pat. "I need two this time from you, Sam, so try again. And this time... actually _try_," she added, before walking away.

Sam stared back down at the letters, still hesitant to reach for one. It was shocking how many there were, even though the majority of them had probably seen her lousy attempts from yesterday's issue. Even after all Ms. Bumbleworth had told her, she still felt inadequate to be giving anyone advice, and _lovestrukk _had only intensified that. Even if she did "actually try," would it even be any good...?

_What the ham?_

Suddenly, Sam cursed under her breath and slammed a fist onto the table. A familiar wave of emotions began to wash over her unexpectedly, and it was as if her body managed to delete all feelings of guilt and other weird, un-Sam-like emotions. It was as if the gears in her head had been jammed, but were now back to properly moving once more:

_Okay, why am I even getting all worked up about all of this exactly? "Helpful" advice, feeling incapable--_pfft!_ I'm only doing any of this so I can get out of seeing Ms. Briggs during the summer! Since when did any of these peoples' problems actually matter? So what if that girl's upset? It doesn't effect _me_! All I have to do is spew out some more crap until the end of the year, make Ms. Bumbleworth think I'm "getting" what she's saying, and I'm home free! Easy. Now forget about that girl, stop being so emo and out of character, and get this lame assignment over with already!_

Sam curtly nodded and didn't waste any more time in grabbing the top letter, the words on it appearing messy and purple. There were also about ten tiny purple rabbits drawn around the edges like a border:

_Dear Anna,_

_Well... I kind of accidentally ate these pills off the ground, and now all I can see are these purple bunnies telling me to come play with them, and that I'm their king. How do I get them to go away? Please, make them go away! It's too much pressure to be--whoa, an orange one! That's new.... Umm, so yeah... help?_

_Yours truly,_

_Cuniculus, the Bunny King._

"Umm...." Sam promptly threw the letter into the nearest trash can, all the while wondering how someone could "accidentally" eat pills off the ground. "Okay, definitely not that one though," she murmured, rather disturbed. She hastily reached for the next one in the pile in hopes to try and forget about what she had just read:

_Dear Anna,_

_Are leprechauns real? Because I'm thinking about heading to the end of the rainbow for the gold, and I don't want to have a run-in with them; between you and me... short people kind of freak me out. So yeah, thanks in advance! I'll be sure to split ten percent of my findings with you for your help._

_Signed,_

_Soon-to-be-LOADED_

"What?" Sam scowled, starting to feel like the majority of these people asking for "help" were either pulling her leg... or utter mental cases. And being well known with the student body in that school, the latter wasn't all that implausible.

Again, she threw the letter away and immediately started on the next one:

_Anna,_

_I don't think I can keep this bottled up anymore. I... I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you! I want to have millions--no, no BILLIONS of little redheaded, brown eyed babies with you. I want to feel your soft skin beneath my fingers as I caress your--_

"_Ah!_"

And the next one:

_Dear Anna,_

_So about a month ago, I kind of stole Mr. Howard's pet hamster, Mr. Wiggles, and blamed it on another student--_

_Hey! _Sam inwardly cried, her eyebrows knitting together as she reread the sentence, suddenly remembering that about a month ago, _she_ had been given detention for supposedly "stealing" Mr. Howard's pet. Obviously she argued she didn't do it, but Mr. Howard had briskly retorted with, "I have a reliable source." Sam felt her anger rise as she kept reading, her hands tightening on the paper causing it to wrinkle and rip slightly:

_I feel really bad, but I just couldn't let the poor little thing live in a cage like that! It was so inhumane. So I took it and set it free into my backyard. Now my problem is that... well, I sort of became a little addicted to freeing animals after that, and kind of stole a polar bear from the zoo. Now I have this three hundred pound polar bear living in my room, and I don't know what to do with it! It rarely snows in Seattle, so I can't let it loose. I can't keep it from my parents forever; I can't bring it back to that awful place! Oh, what should I do?_

_Please help me! _

_Peace_and_Love_and_Polar_Bears_OH_MY!_

Sam laughed cruelly--"Serves them right"--as she repeated the cycle, and continued to the next one:

_Dear Anna,_

_Why does my finger hurt when I touch fire? I don't understand!_

_Love,_

_Rufus_

And then the next one... and then the next one... until finally, there was only one left. Sam silently pleaded that this person was at least semi-normal; she needed to at least get one done that day, or at least chosen. But if this one just turned out to be a bust too, she supposed _Soon-to-be-LOADED _could use the help; a cash reward sounded promising, even if the idiot would never get it.

Sam picked up the last remaining letter, noticing that it was typed out, just like the one she had seen when she first started. Also like that one, the letter was much, _much_ longer than the others--an observation Sam wasn't all that excited about--and seemed just generally neater. With a small groan, Sam began to read the gigantic, sure-to-be snore-fest:

_Dear Anna,_

_Uuh... hi.... Is that a good way to start this? I'm not vry good as beginnings, sorry. Also, I'm sorry for the facvt that there will be a lot of typos in thi s letter; a demon that shall remain nameless "unintentionally" broke the delete button on mu-MY--lap top, so it's impossible for me to dix--FIX--anything I type until I get enough money for a new pne-ONE. Hopefully I don't screw up too much...._

_So yeah, the reason I am writing to yoy is because I have a probkem... but I guess you already figured that, since you are, in fact, an advice columnist; it's your job to help people with problems. My problem kind of comes in the form of two people--my two best friends, actually. Well... make that ONE best friend, and one thorn in my side.... Yeah, that's a good way to descrive her. A thorn that's thrust deep and painfully into my side, and I couldn't even get her partially loose if i tried. _

_I guess I should start with my best friend aka the most beautiful girl ever aka the love of my life. She's... perfect, to put it plainly. Perfect looks, perfect personality... perfect everything. I always thrive for perfection, so it's no surprise that I'm completely in love with it. Time after time though, my love had gone unrequited, and it hurt... a lot. Until one day, miraculously, she kissed me. Se finally realized my amazing good looks and charm, and I was thriled... okay, fine, there were some circumstances behind the kiss, but I can dream it meant something else, can't I? Sure...._

_Now the problem is... I felt... nothing. They say when you kiss the love of your life, you're suppose to see stars and fireworks, and hear bells, and... yeah, all that chizz. Yet whn I kissed her... there was none of that. No stars, no fireworks, no bells... except the ice cream truck out the windo, but I guess that doesn't count.... Does that count...? No, I didn't think so.... I'm just... confused now, because I still feel like I love her... yet we kissed, and it didn't feel like anything. She said she felt nothing either, but would finally give me a chance only if I first dated other people to see if what I felt for her was really... right. But it is right, however! I mean... I think it'skdjsfdbdbfpoajfKvm_

_Ah! Yeah, remember that thorn in my side I was talking about ealier? Yeah, sorry, that was her annoying fault. Uggh, she's just so... argh! I can't take it sometimes. I don't even know why I bother talking to her still; she's so horrible. And to think I ever kissed her... twice (I think).... Hey, don't even think little of me lik that! It's not my fault woman just throw themselves at me.... Okay, did that sound as pathetic as I thought it did? Dang, and I can't delete it now!_

_Yeah, like I said, she's a part of my problem. So yeah... I kissed her too, that much we have established... but unlike the one I shared with the lve of my life, I really did... well, experience all that stuff. You know, the star seeing, firework shooting, bells ringing... of course, I didn't say any of this to her! I never would; she'd kill me where I stood... or worse... cringes...._

_So what does that even mean? Do I have... feelings for her? Uggh, delete! delete! That's just crazy! I can't... can I...? No, it's impossible. She beats me, insults me, basically torments me on a regular basis; I'm not some masochist! Sick! So then... what? Uggh, I;m so confused! I don't love her; I could never love someone like that. Yet I feel... drawn to her, in a way. Like, even though she _is _horrible... I feel like crud when I think about my life with out her. _

_Oh, What should I do, Anna? Should I try to date other girls, even though I only want to date one? Even though it's my only chance to date that one girl? And what about that thorn in my side? Should I just... ignore all that in general? I feel like that's the best thing to do with that situation. I mean, my confusion for her will go away eventually if I choose to just not acknowledge it... right?_

_Hopefully you can give me something to work off of. Lord knows I cant talk to my mom about this stuff._

_-TechWiz_

Sam finished, her brain trying to process all that was written. She couldn't help but feel that there was something... oddly familiar about all that, but she couldn't quite place her finger on what it was. An idea sprung to mind, but it just seemed impossible:

_Weird... for a second there, that almost sounded like... Freddie._

There was a pause, and then....

Laughter. Uncontrollable, side-splitting laughter. Hilarious! Insane! There was no possible way Freddie wrote that. Sure, he considered Sam a "thorn in his side"--a term he had used on more than one occasion--and yeah, she may or may not have broken his delete key (he had no proof, so it was still questionable), and okay, he was head-over-heels "in love" with a perfect girl... but Carly and Freddork _kissing_? Freddie possibly having feelings for _herself_? The ideas made Sam laugh harder; it was all so ridiculous.

There were over four thousand kids who went to Ridgeway, half males; there was bound to be one loser with a similar predicament.

"Still, whoever you are, at least you turned out to be semi-normal, _TechWiz_," Sam said to the paper after being able to subdue her laughter to mere chuckles. She figured she could help the poor sap; anyone desperate enough to actually resort to writing basically a novel to an advice columnist was eligible for at least that much. Plus, like she said, his letter was conventional compared to the other ludicrous ones sent in to her. Like Rufus'... that one was good.

Sam shoved the letter into her backpack, relieved to hear it was almost time to be dismissed.

-:-

"How'd you do it?"

Sam looked up from the report card she was currently scanning to see a pair of soft, chocolate brown eyes staring down at her curiously. Her face scrunched up with displeasure, and she viciously grunted back, "Do _what_, Freddifer?"

"Get a C in English," he replied, pointing towards the lone letter in a column of D's. Sam, annoyed, chomped her teeth down a mere centimeter from his outstretched finger, and Freddie immediately retracted his arm back in shock. "_Hey!_"

"Because that's what I got, dork. Now leave me alone."

"But you didn't even do the final! You should have failed--"

"I have my ways, Fredonna, now drop it."

"What? Did you threaten the teacher?" he snorted.

"For chicken sake,_ no_, I didn't threaten her."

Most likely unbeknownst to himself, Freddie's voice rose in volume. "Then what could you have possibly done to--"

"Freddie? Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class?" Mr. Yakal asked from the front. Freddie's body tensed at being addressed, and he quickly turned around, his ears turning their usual light red when he was embarrassed. Again, Sam mentally slapped herself for thinking his flustered appearance was ho--cute, _cute! _

_Uggh...._

"N-no, sir."

"Good. Now stop flirting with Sam, and pay attention."

The class erupted into a fit of giggles at the elderly man's words, and Freddie sunk down into his seat and placed his hands on the top of his head, almost like a retreating turtle. Surprisingly, his ears turned even redder. Sam, on the other hand, began to shoot death glares and bare her teeth at the few brave souls who turned to glance at her. Almost instantly, the laughing stopped on their end.

_Since when was bugging someone considered "flirting"? _Sam asked herself, shaking her head in disbelief and turning back to her report card. A few seconds later, however, she found the back of Freddie's head in her line of vision, and, without thinking, she flicked his still burning ear.

Freddie yelped, his hand shooting up to cup the side of his head. He craned his neck to glower at the frustrating blond, who smirked wide in return and proceeded to flick him in the nose.

Sam was quite overjoyed when his yells of protest smacked him with a Saturday detention, and she left History with a broad grin on her features and a skip in her step as Freddie sullenly stayed back to get his detention slip and the details of his punishment.

He was such a poor sap.

-:-

Sam nibbled on the end of her pen, a blank sheet of paper placed in front of her. She had practically been in the same position for the past ten or so minutes, and she was starting to lose focus on what she was trying to accomplish in the first place. She had already spoken with Ms. Bumbleworth about her choice, who hadn't hesitated in letting her do only one reply for the upcoming issue considering the length of _TechWiz's _letter. The only condition was that her reply had to be just as long, if not longer.

Unfortunately, for the most part, she was stuck. She had no idea what advice to give this guy, and having already seen the thrill on Ms. Bumbleworth's face when she had shown her the task she had decided on taking, there was probably no chances of picking two, less difficult ones. She had tried to imagine herself and what she would do in that type of situation, but, knowing her, she would probably just ditch the two broads and go eat some pork; now how was she suppose to stretch that into a page's worth of material?

Maybe thinking about it from his point of view would work...? Yeah, that was no use either. Thinking like a desperate, confused, lovesick puppy was more of Freddie's department, and Sam certainly couldn't think like that dumb nub even if she tried so hard she became blue in the face. Sam placed her chin into her palm and took a glimpse at the ceiling, a part of her hoping the answer was written up there in bold text. Of course, it wasn't.

"Hmm...." Sam tapped her finger against her chin in deep thought. She could always wing it again, but judging by how disappointed Ms. Bumbleworth was with her last column, and on top of her "words of wisdom," Sam had a sinking feeling she wouldn't be so forgiving and let it slide a second time, and who knows if she'd let her come back. Which meant evil Briggs.... Sam shuddered.

She _really_ needed some inspiration, because in all honesty, she had no idea what this guy should do. Though really, who was she to tell him what to do anyway? It was his choice in the end; like Ms. Bumbleworth had said, she could effect their decisions with her advice, but it wasn't like she had a steel bat in her hand forcing them to do it in the end....

Sam perked up. That's when it hit her. Hard. Like a sock filled with butter. She couldn't decide for him; ultimately, it was up to him what he was going to do, what _he _thought felt right. She could only give him a little push, and make him realize this fact. Sure, maybe she could add her two cents in as well, even if it did mean ignoring the whole thing altogether and eating a various assortment of meat products; it would at least give the reply some much needed length, that was for sure. It was a brilliant angle; why hadn't she thought of it before?

With a grin, Sam began to furiously write, inspiration finally striking.

-:-

**A/N: **Just to clear things up: I intentionally made it obvious that the letter was from Freddie. It's not suppose to be some huge mystery. Every one is suppose to know it's him, _except _Sam. But is she really that dense, or in complete denial? I mean, Sam isn't _that _stupid, is she? lol. Only time will tell. ;) Also, I know I made Sam do a complete one-eighty in the beginning pretty fast, but there is a difference between getting over something, and just repressing it; I will tell you now, there will be much for Sam-guilt in the future, hehe.

This chapter is far less longer than the one prior to it, but I finally started really going on the Seddie, so can you cut me some slack? Pretty please? lol, awe, thanks in advance! Anyway, please continue to read and review--you know I appreciate it immensely. And thanks to all those who put me on either their favorite or alert list. You guys ROCK. :)

Oh, right! Almost forgot: **Merry Belated Christmahanakwanza, and have a Happy New Year! :) (What is your guys' New Year's resolution, by the way? I'm curious, heh.)**


	5. iSkip With A Dork

**Disclaimer: **Yupp, I'm Dan. Please ignore everything about me that says otherwise, thanks. :)

-:-

Chapter 5:

_iSkip With A Dork_

-:-

"You did _what_?!"

Sam flinched at Carly's shrill voice, inwardly noting that the other girl needed to calm down; it wasn't _that_ serious.

"I already told you," the blond sighed, "I glued Mr. Howard to his seat in Study Hall, wrapped him up in duct tape, then wheeled him into the janitors' closet."

Carly blinked a couple times, Sam relieved to see she appeared to seemingly relax a little. Then, "_You did what?!_"

"Carls, please. It's no big deal."

"But-but... why did you do that?"

Sam shrugged. "Cause I was bored."

"That's your excuse for _everything_."

"What? I really _was _bored! Study Hall is _so_ lame. All you do is sit there quietly and stare at the wall; you can't even have food! What else was I suppose to do?"

"Oh, I don't know... study?"

Sam snorted, "Seriously?"

"Yeah, right. Dumb question," Carly sighed, fiddling with her lock. "So what do you have to do now?"

"Write a one page essay on the harmful effects of duct tape and glue," Sam grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"You going to do it?" Sam raised her eyebrows at the brunette's question, not saying anything. Carly, confused by the silence, turned and, once she noticed Sam's expression, continued with, "Another dumb question?" Sam nodded with an impish smirk, and Carly couldn't help but chuckle. "Is that it?"

"No. Franklin slapped me with detention this Saturday too."

"_One _detention?" Carly replied, baffled.

"Yeah, that's what I said! I guess Mr. Howard begged him to not stick me with more; he said Howard seems quite shaken by everything, and said that he 'can't take much more of that _Puckett girl_.' I think I might have really scarred him this time, Carly; he _cried_, for sweet ham sake. Something about being deathly afraid of mops...."

"Really?" Carly exclaimed, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. Sam nodded, and Carly shook her head. "Wow... I think you've reached a new level with your torture on him."

"Ah, 'torture' sounds so vicious," Sam said, waving her hand as if dismissing a bug. "I like to think of it as... 'playful fun that can be harmful sometimes.'"

"Is _that_ what you call it?" snorted a male voice from behind her. Sam didn't even hesitate as she brought her elbow up, and jabbed it right into the person's stomach. A satisfied grin graced her features when she heard him grunt in pain. "Ow...," he added weakly.

"Hey, Freddie. What's up?" Carly greeted as she finished with her locker, completely not phased by the exchange her two best friends just shared.

"Hey, Carly... Sam...," Freddie said, adding--or more like growling--the other girl's name almost like an afterthought. He walked around so both of them could see him clearly, slowly rubbing his stomach. His tone became noticeable more melancholy as he answered with, "Nothing much...."

"Why so gloomy?" Carly asked sincerely, tilting her head to the side.

"Oh, you mean besides being elbowed in the stomach?" he grumbled, glaring at Sam, who simply shrugged and smiled in return. He rolled his eyes at her. "It's because I'm stuck here tomorrow at eight thanks to this... _this_---" Freddie frantically gestured at Sam, raking his brains for the word "--this _monster_."

"_Hey!_" Sam interjected, frowning. "It's not _my_ fault you can't control the volume of your voice!"

"Well if you hadn't of flicked me--" he raised two fingers, and shoved them in Sam's face "--_twice_, I wouldn't of had to control any volumes, you nutcase!"

"Geek-a-zoid!"

"Demon!"

"Mama's 'pwecious' angel."

"Sociopath!"

"_Enough!_" Carly screamed, grabbing Freddie's ear and Sam's curls, and yanking. Over the years she had become much more physically aggressive when it came to her two bickering friends (most likely a trait she had inherited from them), and found the end results to be much more satisfactory than just yelling a lot. A simultaneous pair of "_ah_'s" filled the space around the trio.

"Whatever, dork," Sam mumbled after a pause, massaging her fingers through her scalp. "I'm stuck here tomorrow morning too, so quit complaining."

"What? What for?"

"Well," Carly started before Sam could, "supposedly Sam here thought it would be funny to glue Mr. Howard to his seat and--"

"Wait-wait, are you the one who shoved Mr. Howard into the janitors' closet?" he cut in, motioning towards Sam.

"Yup," Sam answered proudly.

"Oh man, we could hear him freaking out about mops or something in my French class. Our teacher is the one who found him all duct taped," he laughed. Freddie smiled broadly and held his fist out. "Nice one, Puckett."

"Thanks, Benson," Sam snickered, accepting his fist bump.

"You two are so bipolar...," Carly deadpanned all of a sudden.

"_Huh?_"

"Never mind.... Let's just go before Sam decides to stealth attack another faculty member and I'm stuck here tomorrow too."

"Why would we get in trouble for that?" Freddie questioned

"Guilty by association!" Carly explained in all seriousness, causing him and Sam to chuckle.

"Well I'll catch you peeps on the flip side then," Sam said, walking past her friends and towards the familiar hallway.

"Heading to your _meat club_?" Freddie's voice spoke up, causing Sam to halt and send a menacing glare at a now petrified Carly.

"Freddie, you big mouth!" Carly cried. She looked at Sam remorsefully. "S-sorry, Sam, it's just that... w-well he asked w-where you kept going, and you know I s-stink at lying, and then we promised never to keep secrets again, and s-so--"

"It's fine, Carls. No biggie," Sam sighed, disregarding it as any serious issue before the Shay girl exploded. "You both better just keep your mouths shut about it now." Sam pointed towards her eyes, then directed her fingers towards Carly and Freddie. "I know where you both live, so don't test me." Her semi-truthful words were met with a pair of nervous smiles.

They all bid farewell, and went their separate ways. Sam walked with an emotionless facade on her face, but inside, everything was flipping in circles. She didn't know what made her more uneasy at that moment: how cockily uncertain Freddie sounded when he made the "meat club" comment, or the fact that she would be now hanging around with him alone for two hours tomorrow.

-:-

_Dear TechWiz,_

_First thing's first: stop rambling. You do way too much of that._

_Second, ha ha at being unable to use your delete key! And yes, that did sound pathetic, ha ha ha!_

_Third, sorry, but I don't think I can be the one to solve this problem; you're the only person who knows how you truly feel about either girl, thus the only person who can decide what's "right" and what's wrong. I can give you my perspective on the situation, but that's really it; I have no answer other than that._

_Okay, so you said you kissed "the girl of your dreams" and didn't feel anything by it, correct? Well, maybe it's time to face the facts, dude: that girl isn't the girl of your dreams. Sure, you may _think _she is, but you don't _feel _she is; love is an emotion, not a thought. Still, if you really do want to date her in the future, then maybe you should respect her wishes and date other girls first; it might benefit both of you, actually.... I don't know, however, it all seems a little weird. Do you think she feels you really don't love her and is trying to help you by making that deal, or is too scared to destroy your friendship because she does like you back but you had already said you felt nothing by kissing her? _

_As for the other girl aka the "thorn in your side": hmm, that's way more complicated. You _feel _it, but you don't... I can see how that could be confusing. Well, like I said, that's up to you: do you want to ignore it, or do you want to act on it? If she's really as horrible as you say, but you can't live without her... maybe it's best to just keep things the way they are without making things more complicated. At least she's still apart of your life that way. Still... maybe there's a reason she's so horrible to you? Have you ever stopped to ask her? I wouldn't disregard that whole situation, but I'd wait to act on it if that's what you wish to do before you have more solid answers._

_Sounds like you got yourself stuck in the middle of one hectic triangle, buddy, and unfortunately, it seems as if someone is going to get hurt no matter what you do. Though personally, I'd just forget about both of them and hit up a buffet, but that's just me--_

That's where it cut off.

Sam was pretty sure she read over her reply more than ten times, a different scenario to end it playing through her head after each time. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to click well with the rest of it; she really had no idea how to conclude it.

She snarled and stuffed the letter into her backpack, calling it quits for now; she was becoming far too frustrated to continue. Her focus instead drifted over to where Raven sat, a habit she had grown accustomed to ever since she first spoke to him two weeks prior. They had yet to exchange more than two words since then, but she couldn't stop herself from staring; the boy was some awesome eye-candy.

Her blue eyes lingered on his own chocolaty brown ones for a moment. Like a few random times before, her heart began to speed up against her control as she watched them slowly scan through some papers.

She really liked them, more so than the rest of him, and she didn't even know why.

-:-

"Sam, come on...! It's almost eight; we're gonna be late...! _Sam!_" Another frenzy of panicked knocks hit against the Shays' apartment door.

"Mah woming, mah woming! Wold mwan!" Sam yelled through a mouthful of ham, lounging lazily on the couch and looking delightfully at the locked door and occasionally jiggling handle. She was already fully dressed and ready to go, and it wasn't as if she couldn't take her food with her; she just loved to make the dork squirm.

"Sam, let's _go! _I... Sam, I'm... okay, I'm gonna leave without you in a couple seconds if you don't come out.... Alright, I'm leaving now...!" his voice trailed off, and the sound of angry stomps could be heard heading in the direction of the staircase. Sam began to lightly hum to herself as she continued to nonchalantly eat. She started counting down from five in her head, and by the time she hit two, a pounding sound rapidly approaching the door filled the air. "Sam, get out here...!" he demanded, before his tone grew soft and whiny, "Sam... you promised to show me where it was...."

Sam rolled her eyes--_So pathetic_--and quickly gobbled down the rest of her breakfast. She jumped to her feet and patted out the wrinkles in her cargo capris, threw her backpack over her shoulder, and ventured over to where the ruckus was coming from. Unlocking the door and throwing it open, Sam was greeted with the sight of a very red faced, agitated Freddie, his fist raised in mid-knock.

"_Finally_," Freddie hissed, not even waiting for her to reply before rushing towards the stairs. Sam rolled her eyes again and strolled along behind him, partially listening to the blabber he was going on about. "...take forever... what were... my mom is waiting for us--"

Sam abruptly stopped in her tracks, having caught that as clear as day. Freddie, sensing her discomfort, stopped as well and turned around. His shoulder slumped at her narrowed eyes, and he made a half-scoff, half-sigh noise, "Sam--"

"No. Way," Sam said venomously, enunciating her words for emphasis. "There is _no way_ I am getting in the car with that woman. Remember the last time? She made us listen to 'dental hygiene' tapes, and almost drove us into a ditch!"

"Yeah, and that never would have happened if you hadn't started kicking and screaming, 'Make it stop! Why are you torturing us? We're just children!'" Freddie forced his voice to go all high-pitched in an attempt to imitate her, and inwardly, Sam found it very amusing.

"Oh, sure. Blame me because your loony mom doesn't know how to drive," Sam said, twirling around and heading in the opposite direction.

"Sam, where are you going?!"

"Out the back. I'd rather eat a pine cone than listen to 'brush in small circles, not back and forth' again... and I _have _eaten a pine cone. And let me tell you, it's _not _pleasant."

"Sam, but... b-but we're gonna be late for sure if we walk!"

"Then don't come with me."

Sam had just made it to the exit door that would lead her down and straight out, when she heard a loud groan, and Freddie was soon dashing around the corner a few seconds later. "Wait-wait, I'm coming with you!"

"Okay, whatever."

Sam pushed the door open, and they silently descended the stairs together. It wasn't until they were outside in the murky atmosphere and walking down the sidewalk that either decided to speak up again.

"Texting _Mommy_?" Sam asked mockingly, noticing him typing on his phone.

"Yeah, I'm telling her we don't need a ride anymore; Spencer's taking us," was Freddie's answer. He closed his phone, satisfied, and put it in his pocket.

"Lying to your mom, Benson? You do it with such ease," Sam noted, smirking.

Freddie shot her a toothy grin. "I learned from the best."

"Yeah, can't argue with that one," Sam chuckled. "So, Mister Liar, what did you tell her we were doing today? Obviously you didn't say we were going to detention."

"Err...." Freddie averted his eyes away from her, and ran a nervous hand through his hair, "I, uh... kinda told her... I signed up for a program that helps troubled teens with homework... and I was tutoring you...."

Sam blinked a couple times, her face blank.

"Sa--_ah!_"

"Jerk," Sam grumbled, retracting her fist from his arm. Both fell silent after that, Sam fuming and Freddie whimpering, but a few heartbeats later, Sam sighed, "Still, I can't deny that was a good lie." She suddenly placed her hands together as if praying and bowed slightly, her voice becoming a poor impersonation of an old man, "You've learned well, young dork."

Freddie made a face that looked like a mix between a smile and a grimace.

Again, neither said anything for a while. The only noises that could be heard were a few passing cars, a couple birds chirping somewhere off in the distance, and the soles of their shoes hitting the pavement. Oddly enough, it wasn't awkward; just... quiet.

Freddie periodically checked his watch, a small gasp escaping his lips after each time, and he would continuously speed up. Sam, on the other hand, kept to the same even pace, and in no time, she was at least five steps behind him.

"Sam, hurry up! We have two minutes!" Freddie called over his shoulder.

"Stop being such a worry wart," Sam muttered. They were just rounding the corner, Ridgeway right ahead of them, when a spontaneous thought suddenly sprang to Sam's mind, causing her to freeze in place. Freddie had broken out into a sprint by this point, and was just passing the flag pole when he glanced behind him and noticed Sam a good twenty yards away.

"Sam!" he cried, stopping as well. Sam continued to just stand there, making no attempts to move forward. Freddie groaned and ran back towards her, out of breath by the time he reached her. "Sam... what are you... doing...? It's past eight."

"Let's skip...."

"Wha--"

"I don't feel like going. I'm gonna skip."

"Y-you can't skip!"

"Sure I can. Watch me."

"B-but--"

"Oh, give me a break, Fredward. You can't honestly say you'd like to spend part of your Saturday at school, do you?"

"Well... no, but--"

"Then either come on or don't. I'm not gonna wait here for you to decide." Sam, sticking to her word, didn't even wait for his answer before turning in a completely different direction, and walking away from him. Freddie stood in the same spot for a good five seconds, too dumbstruck to move, before chasing after her and appearing at her side.

"Wow, Benson, first lying, now skipping? You're turning into a real 'bad boy,' aren't you?"

"This feels illegal," he murmured, darting his eyes around the area.

Sam snorted with an eye-roll. _Figures. I guess I spoke too soon._

"Put a sock in it, nub, and relax. I've done this plenty of times. Do you know how many kids go to Saturday detention? They won't even notice.... Besides, I think Mr. Howard is afraid of me now; he'll be happy I didn't show up."

"Well, you _did_ lock him up with his phobia."

"Right. _Mops_," Sam jeered.

"So, uh... where are we going to go now? I can't go home! We're practically fugitives--"

"What did I just say, nub?" Sam snapped. "Now let me think... got any money?"

"Twenty bucks." Freddie pulled out the green bill, and Sam instantly plucked it from his grasp. "_Hey!_"

"Hmm... now what can we do with twenty bucks...?" she questioned, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Smoothies?"

Freddie shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"I want some food too."

"Of course you do."

Ten minutes later, they had reached the street the Groovy Smoothie was on. The neon colored building was just in plain sight, but instead Sam's attention wavered to another building close by that was square and gray, with flashing green, yellow and blue lights and _cha-ching_ noises emitting from it. A large banner read "grand opening" in big, bold, red letters.

"Freddie," Sam said, tugging on his sleeve and pointing towards it, "check it out! That new arcade opened up!"

"Really?" he said, following her finger. Freddie looked between the arcade and Sam a few times before resting them on the girl next to him, a mischievous, crooked smirk spreading across his face. "Air hockey?"

"You're on!"

Like a pair of overly excited nine year old's on a sugar high, they raced to the arcade and burst through the front doors. Both stopped and stared, mouths agape, at the surroundings around them. The place was booming with people and games, a large quantity of lights and colors giving the feeling it had a life of its own. It was, for lack of a better word, _awesome_.

Sam quickly broke out of her trance to exchange the money for a bundle of tokens and the air hockey equipment.

"So how about we make this... interesting?" she said slyly when they had found an unoccupied table, and were positioned on either side of it.

"What are you proposing, Puckett?" Freddie asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, I have three games worth here; best two out of three? And how about... loser has to do the winner's homework for two weeks?"

"Alright--"

"_And_... they have to kiss Gibby on the next iCarly."

Freddie did a double take. "_What_--"

"On the _lips_."

"_Sick!_ No. Absolutely not--"

"What's the matter, Freddie?" she cooed. "Doubtful? Scared?"

Freddie looked down, knitting his eyebrows together. Even though his skills in air hockey were up to par with the blond's, Sam's words still--as usual--managed to strike a nerve. Sam could tell he was having some internal struggle with himself, but she knew his answer before he even uttered, "Fine."

He was so predictable sometimes; he never backed down from a bet, no matter how humiliating the cost was. A prime example being their Halloween bet, where Freddie failed to drink a spicy hot smoothie before Sam did, thus resorting to having to be a fairy princess as his costume. Whenever Sam was in a bad mood now, all she had to do was watch the clip of Freddie skipping around in a frilly dress and sparkly wings, and she'd be picked right back up.

"Let's do this!" Sam growled, her voice resembling a beefy wrestler. She slipped four tokens into the coin slot, threw the puck onto the table top, and before Freddie could even get prepared, slammed it right into his goal and gained a point.

Sam threw her hands in the air triumphantly. "Woo! One-zip! And the crowd goes wild for Pitbull Puckett! Ah! Ah--"

"Hey, cheater!" Freddie scolded, placing the puck in the center. "Let's play fair, okay?"

"Oh, Tom, the crowd really seems to dislike Baby Benson. _Boo!_" Sam pulled a wadded up gum wrapper out from her pocket, and threw it at Freddie. The small bit of trash bounced off his forehead, and Freddie swiped a hand across where it had made contact.

"_Argh_, cut it out!"

"Fine, fine," Sam sighed with a playful pout. She leaned over, tongue poking out, and properly hit her paddle against his. Immediately after, they began their assault on the other.

About one hour later, the pair found themselves being thrown out of the arcade by the collar by a burly man with--in Sam's language--"a bad attitude."

"I don't want to see either of you two little punks here ever again; that was six hundred dollars worth of equipment you just ruined!" he barked. The man, without waiting for a rebuttal, stalked back into the arcade and slammed the door shut, leaving the two teens sitting on the sidewalk, both stunned and a little sore.

"Unbelievable," Freddie mumbled first, slowly bringing himself to his feet. He stared down at Sam, flabbergasted. "Un... believable. Do... do you--" he motioned towards the arcade as his voice stuttered "--I-I... I can't believe... what were you _thinking_?

"What could have _possibly _possessed you to do that? You broke the table in _half_, Sam! In _half!_ Now I may be completely off here, but I don't think an air hockey table is capable of supporting two teens sitting--oh, no, wait, let me rephrase that: _one _teen flipping another teen over onto it, then proceeding to jump on top of them with the delusion that they're some pro-wrestler.

"Do you see that?" Freddie pointed towards the "grand opening" banner. "This place is open for _one _day, and you already got me banned for life because you were that upset for losing something so petty...! I should have just gone to detention, and come here with Carly later," he included with a huff, folding his arms.

Suddenly, Sam's body went rigid and her eyes grew wide. She was just about to break into hysterical laughter; to tell Fredward to calm down, the whole thing would blow over, and at least they had fun while it lasted. Laughing was now the last thing on her list of things she wanted to do.

Now all she wanted to do was put as much space between her and the dork as she could.

Sam shakily got to her feet, and shoved past him. She heard him ask where she was going, in which she curtly responded, "Home."

"Home? Sam, wait, what's--"

"Back off, dweeb. Go bug Carly or something."

Freddie didn't bother to try and make her stay again, and Sam wasn't all that surprised he hadn't; she wasn't precious, perfect Carly who was _worth _that effort.

_Whoa, wait, where did that come from?_

Sam shook her head, shocked with what she had just used to refer to her best friend. She didn't even know why it bothered her so much he mentioned her like that; it just did, and now it felt like her chest was on fire for some reason beyond her understanding. All she knew was that food seemed like the only cure to the mysterious burning sensation, and fortunately, she had managed to keep the remaining fifteen dollars from Freddie's twenty.

With that thought, Sam dared a quick glance over her shoulder to see Freddie's retreating form heading the other way, most likely going back to the Bushwell and appearing like nothing more than a blue dot. With a sigh, Sam looked ahead once more, puzzled by and questioning what in the world just happened.

-:-

Her mom was who knows where for the weekend, which gave Sam the freedom to hang out in the living room in peace. She spent the remainder of her Saturday watching television and eating the junk food she had bought with Freddie's money. Carly had texted her a couple times, asking her why she hadn't come over after detention, in which Sam used the excuse she wasn't feeling well. Carly didn't seem suspicious by that explanation, which gave Sam the relief that Freddie had--thankfully--kept his mouth shut.

It was sometime during watching the Dingo channel--it was a guilty pleasure that Sam would never admit to, even under mass amounts of torture--and munching on some chips that her mind wandered over to TechWiz and her unfinished letter for some reason.

"I should finish that," she thought aloud randomly, putting the TV on mute and snatching her bag up. She unzipped it, pulled out her reply, and smoothed it out onto the coffee table. It was strange, but she now knew exactly how she wanted to finish it, no doubts about it anymore:

_But in the end, just follow your gut, kid. It probably will make more sense than anything._

_Peace, Anna._

Sam, pleased with the end results, put it back into her backpack, this time much more gingerly, and resumed with her mindless activities.

She fell into an uneasy sleep that night, her dreams filled with nothing but falling blueberries. She had a strong urge for them and desperately tried to catch them, but once the small fruits made contact with her hands, they sunk through her skin and disappeared into a cloud of smoke....

Whatever that meant.

-:-

**A/N: **Whoa, that chapter was depressing (at the end), wasn't it? lol, kind of goes along with how I've been feeling lately.... Nothing to do with you all or this site, of course! Actually, I'm both thrilled and utterly stunned with the feedback I've been getting: **84 **reviews, **77 **alerts, and **43 **favorites--I am beyond speechless, guys. Honestly, when I first started this story, yeah, I hoped for a little support, but this... this is amazing. You are all beyond awesome, and don't you ever forget it, lol! ;)

Also, I loved hearing all of your guys' New Year's resolution! They were all really good. :) So... it got me to thinking: yes, I love hearing what you guys think of my story/chapters, but I also love hearing about my readers as well! Who _is _reading my story? haha. So I've decided to ask you guys a question at the end of each chapter, and whether you choose to answer or not is up to you, heh; no pressure, lol. So, here we go:

**Let's start with the basics: what is your favorite color? If it's any consolation****, mine's lime green, but I also love purple and red (especially together). Your turn (if you want). If there's a reason too, feel free to share. :)**


	6. iThink I'm Going Crazy

**Disclaimer:** It's time to get buckwild! lol! Classic.... Umm, what was I suppose to put here again?

-:-

Chapter 6:

_iThink I'm Going Crazy_

-:-

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Sam groaned and curled up into a tight ball. Her eyes flickered open slightly before snapping shut again, the intense light pouring into her room too much to take in all at once. She could hear another string of loud banging, and she let out a frustrated growl before snatching her pillow out from under her and slamming it into her face. It was fruitless, however, because the noise was still audible as it occurred again and penetrated her puffy shield.

Sam forcefully threw her pillow across the room and sat up. She rapidly began to blink in an attempt to adjust her vision before groggily getting to her feet. The banging happened once more, and Sam was finally able to register that someone was at the door. Judging by how loud they were knocking too, she wouldn't be that surprised if it was the cops bringing her mom home from another rough night; it wouldn't have been the first time.

"I'm coming!" she yelled when they persisted to beat against her front door. She made it to the entryway and reached for the handle as they continued to knock. "Just restrain her! It will get her to stop trying to grope--"

Sam stopped when she yanked the door open and found Carly standing on her porch, bouncing up and down impatiently. She dropped her arm when she saw Sam, and placed it under a tray that was covered with cupcakes. What really caught Sam's attention, however, was what--or _who_... no, actually, _what_ worked fine, Sam concluded--was behind her: Freddie was standing there awkwardly, hands in his pockets and staring intensely at the crab tree perched in the Pucketts' front yard.

"Sam!" Carly cried, smiling brightly.

"Hey, Carly.... This is, um... unexpected. What... what are you guys doing here?" Sam asked slowly, still looking at Freddie, who still looked elsewhere. Her stomach tightened; she hadn't expected to see him until school, and frankly, after her dramatic exit (which only happened _yesterday_, mind you), she wasn't quite in the mood for this. What if he asked her _why_ she had done that? How was she suppose to answer him when she didn't even have the answer for herself?

Sweet meatball, she needed some bacon. Hot, greasy, delicious--

"To see how you're feeling, and bring you some 'get well' cupcakes," Carly's voice piped up, breaking her train of thought. Sam shook her head, and looked down at the colorful treats.

"Get we--? _Oh!_" Sam eyes widened, realization striking. She was suppose to be sick. Right....

"Oh, um... t-thanks, Carly," Sam croaked out, hunching over and feigning a harsh cough. Carly, completely oblivious to the abrupt change in her friend, quickly shoved the tray into Freddie's chest, dashed forward, and placed a comforting hand on the blond's back. Sam smiled weakly at her before keeling over and starting to hack again. Freddie remained silent, watching the scene with an arched eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" Carly said, her voice laced with concern. Sam's answer came out in more coughs. Carly turned her around, and began to guide her towards the couch. "Come on, you need to relax. Freddie, get in here!"

Sam could hear him sigh, then a couple seconds later, her door click shut. When the two girls reached the couch, they instantly flopped down on it, Carly's arm still wrapped around Sam, who started to shiver and cough more. Out of the corner of her eye, Sam could see Freddie standing beside the armchair, still holding the tray. Sam resisted the urge to snicker at how girlish he looked while holding rainbow cupcakes.

"Want a cupcake?" Carly said softly, beckoning Freddie over before Sam even had time to answer. She blindly grabbed one when he approached them, and presented Sam with a chocolate cupcake that had red icing and purple sprinkles on it. She giggled, "I baked them myself."

Sam playfully rolled her eyes; Carly and her stupid cupcakes.

"Yeah, thanks," Sam said, taking the cupcake in her shaky hands and eating a small bite, which caused Carly to beam. Sam felt her tongue tingle as the small piece slid down her throat. The delightful taste made her let out a moan, and ten seconds later, she had gobbled down the rest of it, totally forgetting she was suppose to be sick; stupid or not, Carly's cupcakes were awesome.

"Well it seems you still have your appetite," Carly commented, raising her eyebrows, clearly amused. "Want another one?"

"Yes!" Sam nodded her head furiously, and ate the second cupcake--this time vanilla, with blue icing and green sprinkles--given to her just as fast as the first. "Thanks, but...--" cough "--I'm thirsty now.... Fredlumps, get me a soda from the garage." Sam clapped her hands together. "Chop-chop."

"Get it yourself," Freddie grumbled, setting the cupcakes down onto the coffee table and taking a seat on the other side of Carly.

"But I'm _sick_," Sam whined, letting out another fake cough. Freddie rolled his eyes and made no attempt to get up.

"Freddie, that's so insensitive," Carly scolded, standing up herself and brushing out her black skirt. She shot Sam a kind smile. "Don't worry, Sam, I'll get it for you."

Sam stuttered, "A-actually, Carly, i-i-it's no big--"

"Don't worry, it's no trouble. I'll be right back," Carly cut in. She shuffled her boots around and walked towards the hall. Sam watched her retreating form, her heart dropping a little more with each step, until she disappeared around the corner. She glanced to her left, then down to her lap. This is what she had been afraid of: her and Freddie... alone....

She coughed, this time on accident.

"I know you're not sick," Freddie said suddenly.

"You don't know anything, dork."

"I know the reason you're pretending is cause of yesterday. You're trying to avoid me." Freddie leaned back and closed his eyes. "Would have worked if Carly hadn't literally dragged me here to see how you were doing. Really, that girl's stronger than she let's on."

Sam grinned despite herself. A silence filled the air around them, and she swore you could cut the tension with an axe... wait, that wasn't--

"But look," Freddie sighed, tilting his head to the side, his brown eyes opening to look straight into her blue ones. Sam's heart began to speed up at the sight, a familiar yet new sensation overtaking her, and she quickly looked down at his lame striped shirt.

_What's going on?_

"I'm sorry about reacting like that, okay? If I had known you were going to get so mad, I wouldn't have said anything. Besides, I don't think I was much help avoiding the whole 'air hockey' incident with me egging you on like that.... So are we cool?"

For some reason, Sam felt... disappointed? Was that the right word? It didn't make sense though; here was Freddie, apologizing to her like the wimp he was for something that she didn't even care about, and she couldn't help but feel letdown for some reason... like he had missed something big that she _really_ wanted him to see... but... _what?_ She was so confused!

"You think that's the reason I'm mad at you?"

Sam's mouth stalled on the word "you," her mind starting to race. Where had _that_ come from? Had _she_ said that...? Yeah, she had... but it was as if she had lost control of her voice there for a moment and her brain had fallen into some sort of blank trance, because she had absolutely _no_ recollection of ever telling herself to say _that_ considering... well, considering she had no idea what she was even mad at him about in the first place!

_Where is Carly with those sodas?!_

"That's not the reason?" Freddie asked, looking just as surprised as Sam felt. "Then what did I do?"

"I... I... of _course_ that's the reason, Fredworm!" Sam laughed halfheartedly, snapping back into reality and punching him in the shoulder in an attempt to sidestep her slip-up before the conversation went on for any longer; she was beginning to get a headache. Freddie cried out, lurched forward, and clutched where she had hit him. "I was getting pretty annoyed by you rambling on like a loser--which you are, by the way--about the dumb arcade thing, so yeah, I left. Ha ha, why else would I be mad?"

Sam watched as he cradled his shoulder, wheezing in pain. She had put a lot of power into that one; that was probably going to leave a nasty bruise.

"But yeah, we're cool now," Sam continued, kicking her legs up onto the coffee table and placing her hands behind her head. The illogical thoughts and emotions for the nub still lingered, but Sam did what she does best with those types of things: pushed it to the back of her mind, and instead focused profusely on the surroundings around her until they were wiped clean from her conscious.

Luckily, she didn't have to--for the thousandth time--observe how ugly the wallpaper was for very long because Carly soon reentered the room, three sodas nestled in her arms. Sam, remembering she was suppose to be ill around the other girl, made her limbs go limp, and started to cough again.

"Sorry it took me so long," Carly said, handing a Mountain Ooh over to Sam. "It was kind of hard finding these; your mom has _a lot_ of beer in there, Sam."

"Yeah." Sam shrugged, cracking her can open and taking several hearty gulps. She sighed with contentment, then let out a huge belch.

Carly cringed. "Ew, gross...."

She turned to Freddie, and held out a Peppy Cola. Freddie gasped when he released his sore shoulder, and slowly reached for the can. When he managed to grasp it, he brought it up and pressed it on the exact spot Sam had punched him, and sighed.

Carly furrowed her eyebrows and opened her mouth to say something, shot one fleeting glimpse at Sam's smirking features, then just shook her head and plopped down between the bizarre pair. "We should watch a movie," she suggested after a pause.

"Sure."

"Yeah, okay."

After about ten minutes of Freddie and Sam arguing about what they should watch, Carly threw "(500) Days of Autumn"--Sam wondered when her mom got that--into the DVD player, closed the blinds, and told them to shut up. Both Freddie and Sam huffed as the opening credits started, while Carly sat in the middle, watching the screen with a wide grin. Sam kept her arms crossed, but she too watched the screen with concealed excitement, having secretly wanted to see that movie for a while.

Of course, she had _hoped_ she would have been by herself when she did view it, or at the very least, with _just_ Carly; at least then she wouldn't have to be scared if she happens to openly squeal. But no, instead Fredward had to ruin it with his presence. She sent a glare over to him and saw that his gaze was glued to the ceiling, wearing a face that had Sam guessing he was currently cursing the downfalls of having two girl best friends.

Sam soon stopped sulking and in time became quite interested in the movie, and when it got to the point where a montage of the main couples happy relationship started playing, Sam found herself looking over at Freddie again. _I want to see his reaction and make fun of him for it later,_ she thought. _That's all._

Freddie seemed to have had gotten over his "manly" pride at this point, and appeared quite engulfed in what was happening. Not what she had been expecting, but at least she had some good "you liked a chick flick" ammo now. She began to turn away when something else caught her attention, and she slowly looked down. Her eyes immediately grew to the size of dinner plates.

Freddie's hand was covering Carly's, and by how she sort of just left her's there, it didn't seem like Carly minded at all!

Sam nearly screamed at the sight, but bit her tongue and covered her mouth with both of her hands. She quickly looked away and stared at the weird rubber plant her mom had gotten as a gift from her ex-boyfriend, Paul (he was a rubber plant salesman... yeah, pathetic), contemplating _what_ in the world she just saw. Fortunately, neither Carly nor Freddie noticed her odd behavior.

_Okay, it must be my mind playing tricks on me; they probably just kind of put them... near each other, and I looked too fast. No biggie,_ she told herself, trying to calm down. _Plus, it _is_ pretty dark in here... probably just the bad lighting... yeah, that's it._

Sam nodded once, feeling a tad better. Her focus was no longer on the movie, however, and she waited a good solid five minutes before sucking in a breath, and daring another glance at the dreaded sight; she _had_ to be sure she was correct in her assumptions.

Freddie was now using his right hand to hold a cupcake while Carly's left hand remained in the same position on the cushion. Relief washed over Sam at this and she turned back to the television, lost on where they were in the movie exactly, but not really caring.

_Yup. Just my imagination._

-:-

It was yet another ordinary Monday the following day, mainly consisting of Sam falling asleep in class and eating a lot. Freddie also made some wisecrack about her "magically feeling better," which resulted in Sam shoving one of Carly's leftover cupcakes in his face. She then slept some more until it was time to head to her "meat club."

"This is... exquisite," Ms. Bumbleworth praised, her mouth slightly open as she marveled at Sam's reply in her hands. Sam straightened her shoulders at the compliment, and smiled smugly. Ms. Bumbleworth glanced up at her suspiciously. "Now you swear to me you didn't get any... _help_ writing this?"

The smile instantly slipped from the blond's features, and she slumped over slightly. "No," she said darkly, the corner of her lip twitching downward. She didn't need this kook questioning if she was a plagiarizer.

"Just like you obviously didn't get any help picking _that_ out," Sam added rudely, waving at the green, orange and brown splattered dress she was wearing. "You look like a rotting pumpkin."

"Thank you," Ms. Bumbleworth said sarcastically. "I get it, and I apologize. _Anyway_, despite a few... unnecessary remarks." She pointed towards the second line of Sam's scratchy handwriting.

"_What?_ I was just agreeing with--"

"It is still good, Sam. _Very_ good. I see a real, honest effort this time, and I applaud you for that."

"Oh." Sam's smile returned, only this time sheepishly. "Err... thanks?"

"Olive!" Ms. Bumbleworth cried suddenly. The bubbly girl was up at the desk literally a second later, giving Sam a brief and unhappy "oh, you're here" sneer when she noticed her presence before flipping like a switch, and smiling kindly at the teacher. Sam just rolled her eyes; sweet chizz, that girl could sure hold a grudge. She acted like she was the first person she ever viciously attacked before.

"Yes, Madame?"

"Here are Sam's entries, Olive," Ms. Bumbleworth said, handing the two letters over to her. "You know what to do." Olive huffed, glared at the papers, and stalked away without another word. Ms. Bumbleworth rolled her eyes at her retreating form. "That girl _can_ be such a pain sometimes, can't she?" the older woman mumbled when Olive was out of earshot.

If Sam had been eating food or drinking water at the time, she surely would have choked.

"Well, I guess you're done for today, Sam. You did a superb job. Please keep up the excellent work, and hopefully you'll finally join us in one of our celebrations tomorrow," Ms. Bumbleworth said, flipping through some papers scattered across her desk.

Sam felt pride swell up inside her as she left the classroom. She immediately texted Carly, too proud to contain herself, and told the brunette that she had been nominated to "Vice President" and "Bar-B-Que Extraordinaire"; a celebration of spaghetti tacos was in order!

Needless to say, Carly agreed.

-:-

Tuesday was basically a repeat of Monday, minus two things, one being the newspaper was distributed. Sam had sneaked out during homeroom to go to the bathroom, hide in one of the stales, and read over her section. Seeing her work published had made her happy the first time, but knowing full well that she had actually done a decent job this time around made her all the more pleased.

The second thing was that there was much less of the dork talking, which Sam wasn't the least bit upset about... well, okay, maybe a little; it was kind of boring without the usual banter. She also couldn't deny that it was strange, and she wasn't the only one to notice his oddly quiet demeanor.

"What's up with Freddie?" Carly asked, eying him as he took his fifth trip to the drinking fountain in the past two minutes.

Sam shrugged. "Beats me, but whatever. Kind of nice not having to interpret 'doofus' today," she said, trying to appear uninterested. Inside though, she was just as curious.

Sam managed to go through the entire party without any altercations. Even when Olive sent her dirty look after dirty look, she kept her cool. She found herself actually enjoying herself, surprisingly, as she chatted with Gibby about random things, ate a mountain of low fat fat cakes, and even managed to talk with Raven again about one of her favorite activities in the world: sleeping.

"I like to interpret dreams," he stated at one point. "Did you know that some believe that dreams are our subconscious telling us something we're missing while we're awake? Like if someone dreams about losing their hair, it means they may be feeling helpless in a situation that they were never even aware of."

"Oh, so like when I dream about drinking a smoothie, that just means I really want a smoothie, right?" Sam chuckled, and even Raven, who had been dead serious, couldn't stop from grinning.

"Yeah, something like that," he replied, his brown eyes sparkling.

Sam's breathing hitched, and she quickly shoveled down another low fat fat cake. She then turned to Gibby, who had been calling her name for the past five minutes, to see him bouncing a fat cake up and down on his exposed stomach.

"Sam, check it out!"

"Um... that's... disturbing, Gibson."

-:-

Tuesday turned to Wednesday, which followed into Thursday. Sam had practically dug through her pile of letters--which seemed to have gotten bigger--each of those days, half expecting to find a follow-up letter from TechWiz; maybe a "thank you" note or something. She couldn't help feeling a little down when there was nothing of the sort, and was also a tad depressed when she had to settle with the two letters that were the least craziest of the bunch (which really wasn't saying much):

_anna,_

_i'll cut it to yo straight, girl: i need yo help gettin' my man back. yo see, i was friends with this shunk bag before my man went and cheated on me with her. yeah, i'm fo real! anyway, now they're all together and shizz, and i need to make him realise that he made a mistake. a BIG onee. so yeah, can yo help a sista out?_

_signed,_

_whyte-hawt-grrl _

Sam had mainly decided to do that one not because she wanted to help the girl with "her man," but because she wanted to knock some sense in to her about proper grammar; even Sam couldn't stand murder of the English language, and that girl was guilty of first degree.

The other one was:

_Dear Anna,_

_I don't have a father figure in my life (he left when I was eight), and it's really annoying when my twelve year old brother tries to act like him! Seriously, I'm fifteen years old! Shouldn't _I_ be the one looking out for him? Yeah, I'm not a dude, but still, I don't need some little brat to remind me to "clean my room" and "do my homework." I tell him all the time to knock it off, but then he starts saying I'm an ungrateful, hormonal teenager and he wishes my mom had aborted me like he told her to. What?! I'm three years older than him! What is wrong with him? What should I do to get him to stop? _

_Signed,_

_Miss_Piggy_

That one was chosen mainly because Sam could relate to having no father figure, and the feeling of your dad bailing on you at a young age. That's _all_ that was relatable though. The rest of it was just absurd, and really? _Miss_Piggy_? What the ham?

Sam scoffed as she stuffed the letters carelessly into her backpack. She was beginning to remember why this whole "advice" thing was so lame to begin with; TechWiz had been a decent person with a real, interesting issue. These people were just freaks with wacko problems.

Freddie had, unfortunately, resorted back to his normal, geeky ways by Thursday; whatever was bothering him for the past couple days was seemingly no longer an issue, though Sam did take into account that he was a bit more jumpy when either Carly or herself approached him. The weirdest thing occurred, however, when Carly had headed to class early around fourth period passing time.

"I have to go ask my teacher a question," she said, strolling off and leaving the two frenemies at her locker. Neither Sam nor Freddie knew what to talk about after that, so Sam did the first thing that sprang to mind to fill the silent gap: she jabbed her index finger right where she knew a healing bruise was located.

Freddie yelped and began to rub at his shoulder while Sam laughed manically. He looked over at her, and Sam's amusement quickly subsided, a sudden energy change causing her to stop laughing and look back at him. His brown eyes were now drilling into her's, and Sam began to feel uncomfortable yet... curiously exhilarated under his intense gaze. The latter only added more to her confusion towards the unusual situation they were now in.

"_What?_" she snapped finally, darting her eyes to the left.

"Sam, why do you... er...." Freddie trailed off. Sam looked back at him and saw that he was now massaging the back of his neck and staring at his scuffed shoe, his ears turning a questionable red while his forehead creased. She arched an eyebrow.

"Why do I _what_?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes. Freddie jerked at her voice.

"Wh-why do you... u-um... look, n-never mind. I-I have to get to class," he mumbled, not sticking around long enough for her to react as he shuffled away, hands in his pockets and his head down. Sam stared fixedly as he vanished into the crowd of students.

_Well that was... um, okay?_

-:-

"And that, my friends, is why you never let Carlotta here near orange sherbet," Sam said into the camera, grinning wide like a total idiot.

"I-It changes me," Carly whispered, rubbing her shoulders as she rocked on the ground in a fetal position, orange sherbet mashed all over her mouth, cheeks, clothes, and the area around her while the empty container and spoon laid discarded a few inches away from her.

Sam nodded her head wildly, still grinning. Suddenly, Carly perked up and jumped to her feet, her expression changing to match Sam's. "Alright, that's all for tonight," she said cheerfully, acting as if she wasn't smothered in orange junk. Sam pouted and pressed the "boo" button on her remote. "Awe, don't worry, Sammy. We'll be back here next week!"

Sam returned to her happy state. "Same time?"

Carly nodded. "Same place!"

"Same dorky tech-nerd?!" Sam continued, acting more excited. Freddie rolled his eyes from behind the camera. That's Sam. Always improvising.

"You bet!" Carly laughed. She glanced at Freddie in a "I'm sorry, but not really" way. Freddie just sighed and cut it off as the two girls waved into the camera. Sam fell down on to a bean bag, exhausted, when she knew they were clear, as Carly ran over to the car and pulled out a blue towel from under the seats.

"Great show, guys," Freddie said hurriedly as he began to arrange his stuff on his cart, moving at a much faster pace than expected.

"Whoa, Freddumb, drink some mutant energy drinks or something?" Sam spoke up.

"Yeah, Freddie, why the rush?" Carly asked, wiping off as much orange residue as she could.

"Sorry, I got somewhere I have to be," Freddie said, giving his station a once over before nodding in approval, and then sending a smirk at the pair of girls looking at him weirdly; Freddie _never_ had somewhere to be unless it was with his mom, and from what they had gathered, she always worked late shifts on Friday. "I have a date with Shelly Louis," he added, answering their unspoken questions. "See you guys later."

Leaving that hanging in the air, Freddie left.

Sam watched the studio door close, not even waiting for a second to come to the conclusion that she was officially going crazy. Not only was she seeing crazy things like Freddie and Carly basically holding hands on her sofa, but now she was _hearing_ crazy things too. Must be that newspaper; it was really starting to wear on her sanity. Oh her poor, crazy mind making her believe Freddie had just said he was going on a date. How preposterous! She should have Carly phone the nearest insane asylum, and get some huge guys in white to drag her away kicking and screaming obscenities; might do her some good before her craziness becomes too much to bear.

Speaking of Carly, why did she look so dumbstruck? Sam was the one turning into some mental patient, not her! So then why was she standing there, staring down at Sam with her jaw hanging, orange stuff still all over her face but the towel unmoving on her cheek...?

_Unless...._

"Did you just hear that?" Carly said, her voice cracking with disbelief. "Freddie's going on a _date_...."

_Holy ham!_

-:-

**A/N: **Well, I guess my story is officially AU as of "iSaved Your Life," huh? In this story, Sam has NO idea Carly and Freddie have ever kissed. Let's keep that in mind, okay? lol. I guess it gave this story a little justification too though: Sam IS totally the best advice giver! Ha! _Whodathunkit_, lol. Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to **the10thcullen** for being my 100TH REVIEWER. Yay! You all should have tried harder... heh. ;) Oh well. There's always 200th, right? lol! No, I really am grateful to all of you, thank you! :)

So yeah, LOVED hearing all your guys' favorite colors! It seems there is a wide number of people who like purple... hmm, wonder why, haha. ;) Well, let's move to numero dos, shall we? Still sticking with the basics: **I'm a movie fanatic, so tell me: what is your favorite movie? Mine is the Nightmare Before Christmas (been since I was four, and I can recite the whole movie by heart; I truly am a geek, yes), but I also like Coraline (yeah, I really like stop-motion animation) and... well, **_**anything**_** related to Tim Burton, lol. Now tell me yours! Tell me or perish... but you won't really... maybe.... ;)**

Also, another question (whoa, two?) because I know most of you are just _dying_ to share: **What did you think of iSaved Your Life? I'll tell you if I agree, disagree, whatever. :)**


	7. iAm Getting Suspicious

**Disclaimer:** omgwtfmate? i dun't own thiz lulz.

-:-

Chapter 7:

_iAm Getting Suspicious_

-:-

_Okay... Freddork's... _really_ on a... _date_... and I'm _not_ going crazy, at least not about that.... I'm starting to wonder about Carly's sanity here though...._

Sam's gaze followed said girl as she paced the living room back and forth, back and forth, wringing her hands together and mumbling incoherently to herself. Sam herself lounged across the couch, trying with all her might not to appear just as astonished and confused as Carly was, but inside, she was flipping out. It perplexed her though on why was she feeling like this, and on that thought... why was Carly _acting_ like this?

_Because Freddie going on a... _date..._ is a sure sign of the Apocalypse,_ she figured, growing tired of watching her friend act like a lunatic, and deciding to focus her attention on twirling a strand of hair around her finger. That answer had managed to settle her slightly, but there was still a little voice in her head that kept repeating, _Shelly Louis has bucked teeth and is disgusting. _She didn't try to ignore or question that, however; it _was_ fact after all.

Yup. Freddie Benson sure knew how to pick 'em.

"Will you sit down?" Sam finally snapped, sick of hearing Carly's boots stomp across the wooden floor. Carly stopped and looked down at her like a deer caught in some headlights. Sam raised her eyebrows and flicked her eyes to vacant spot beside her feet. Carly obliged with a sigh.

"Sorry, it's just, um... shocking," Carly mumbled, staring at a loose thread on her shirt as if it were the most interesting thing on the planet. Sam gave her a weird look, silently noting that there seemed to be... something more to her behavior than just dreaded feelings of the end of the world coming. And for once, the Puckett girl didn't just discard it as nothing.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked quietly, maneuvering herself so she was now sitting up too. She scooted a little closer to Carly, and took in how the brunette tensed at her movements. It was slight, but noticeable.

"Of course I'm okay. That's a silly question. Why are asking such silly questions?" Carly answered with a hesitant chuckle, her voice barely above a whisper. She glimpsed at Sam briefly before quickly turning away again. It was only for a split second when she glanced up at her, but it had been just enough time for Sam to clearly see the emotion that filled the other girl's twinkling brown eyes: fear. And it wasn't "I'm scared of the dark" fear either. More like "I just got caught" fear.

Unlike herself, Carly wore her emotions on her sleeve, which made it obvious to tell when something was seriously up.

"You sure? Because if there's something bothering you, you can tell me. You know that, right?" Sam said, a small smile appearing on her face. She hated it how the Shay girl made her so soft sometimes, but hey, what were best friends for? Carly kept her attention elsewhere and shifted uncomfortably at her words, but nodded all the same. "Remember: no more secrets, right?"

Carly bit her bottom lip and nodded again, her eyes shifting in different directions on the floor. Sam watched her for a few seconds, waiting for more of a reaction, but it never came. The blond sighed in defeat and jumped up, abruptly making a beeline for the fridge; she _really_ needed some food right now. Rummaging through the contents inside it, Sam settled on some grapes and a bottle of wahoo punch before kicking it shut and turning around. She was a little startled to see Carly now standing by the counter, fiddling with a pen.

"Whoa, you're like a ninja; I didn't even hear you walk over here." Sam and Carly both laughed halfheartedly at her lame joke. Sam then strolled over to the other side of the counter and placed her food on the surface of it. She immediately scooped up a handful of grapes, and shoved them in her mouth. "Mwane aw wape."

"Um... that's okay," Carly replied, looking somewhat disgusted as a mixture of droll and some grape juice seeped out of the corner of her friend's lips, trailed down her chin, and dripped to the ground.

Sam shrugged, ignoring the wetness on her skin. "Woot warwelf." She suddenly began to shovel down handful after handful of grapes, the green fruits tasting, for some reason, more delicious than they ever had before. All she could think about now was how amazing they were and wanting more and more, thoughts of a questionable Carly and lame nubs... and their _gross_... _dates_--_What was her name again? Sandy?_--no longer present in her head. Nope, all that mattered were _these grapes_.

It was Carly letting out an exasperated sigh that pulled Sam out of grape-filled mindset, and she looked quizzically over at her to see not only did she look fearful at the point, but determined as well. "No more secrets...," she said so softly that Sam almost didn't catch it. Sam swallowed the remaining grapes on her tongue, and watched Carly with a new sense of curiosity; she was about to share something _big_, she just knew it, and she was more than certain that it had to do with Freddie. What, exactly, she wasn't quite sure. She had a few... _ideas_, but....

Sam shook her head. _No, no. That would be impossible.... Something else must be bothering her._

Carly sighed again... then again. Sam opened her mouth to tell her to "get on with it," but clamped it back shut almost instantly; seeing how skittish Carly was to spill, she knew she needed to be the one thing she hated being more than hungry if she was going to get anything out of her: patient.

After what felt like _hours_--though in reality, it had only been about a minute--of Sam growing more and more antsy for her to start talking that she was literally leaning forward and bouncing up and down like a kid anxious to go to Dingoland, Carly finally spoke, "About three months ago... when you had to go to your Uncle's funeral after he got bitten by a frog or something--"

"Uncle Boris. And it was a snapping turtle, not a frog," Sam corrected smoothly. "He was allergic to them."

"Uh, right... turtle.... Anyway, Freddie and I were hanging out... up in the studio... you know, going over iCarly stuff and... whatever...." Carly looked back down towards the pen in her now shaking hands, and her mouth began to open and close like some fish out of water, strangled noises coming from her throat.

"Go on," Sam prompt urgently, unable to force patience on herself any longer. Carly openly flinched at this, and Sam was rapidly starting to feel both worried and frustrated to add on to her already eagerness; what could _possibly_ be making the brunette girl behave like this? How could Freddie going on a... _date_--that was honestly becoming harder and harder for Sam to digest--trigger it?

"_Okay_," Carly shot back, sounding both reluctant and irritated. She took in a sharp breath before continuing, "Well... we started talking about... _stuff_, and... and well, one thing led to another and we... we... we--"

"_Oui, oui*!_" a voice suddenly cried as the front door flew open, followed by the sound of crinkling paper. The pair directed their eyes towards the intruder to see Spencer attempting to walk inside, two large grocery bags cradled in his arms making this usually simple task a bit more difficult. If Sam wasn't so frustrated by his sudden entrance, she would have commented on how he resembled a crab. Instead, all she could do was inwardly curse him and his horrible timing.

"Spencer!" Carly yelled, sounding extremely more enthusiastic than normal, with a hint of relief as well. Before Sam could even form a proper sentence, Carly dashed over to where Spencer was now relaxing on the couch, exhausted, the bags at his feet. "What's in the bags?"

"Snails," Spencer answered simply. Carly, who had been reaching down to look inside, retracted her arm back with an "_ew!_"

"Why do you have _snails_?" she cried.

"Well, one bag is full of snails, the other is full of stamps," he explained.

"Okay...." She shook her head. "I still don't get it."

"Well you know how I was helping those French people create that Eiffel Tower out of gum wrappers for their restaurant, right?"

"'The Aluminum Tower,' yeah. What about it?"

"Well these little guys here were just going to be thrown out because they weren't fresh enough or something for their _esgarcotta-watta-whatever_, so instead of paying me money like originally planned, I told them to just give me the snails and we'd be even!"

"What?!"

"Yeah!" Spencer replied happily, completely oblivious to the fact that Carly was blatantly aghast that he took reject snails over cash, _not_ thrilled like himself. "I got this brilliant idea from them! You see, I'm going to take a stamp and put it on the shell of each and every one of these snails, and then...."

Sam tuned him out at this point. She didn't care about slimy snails or stamps or whatever else he was going on about. All she could do was ponder Carly's words before the interruption: _"...we... we... we--" _What could _they_ have possibly done to make her so frightened to tell her? Sam raked her brains, trying to figure out what it could be. Again, the impossible sprung up, but she pushed it back once more; it _must_ have been something else. It had to be... and it certainly had something to do with the date Fredward was currently on....

Suddenly, all her thoughts of a baffling brown-haired girl turned into a baffling brown-haired boy. What was he _doing_? _Why_ was he on this date? Every other Friday night he would stick around like some annoying fly, celebrate another successful show, then eventually scurry home where his wacko mom would finally be home from work to bathe him for nonexistent ticks; that's how it _always_ was. What made this Friday any different? What came over him to unexpectedly ask out Shelly Louis of all people?

All of the questions were like an avalanche, burying her under with no escaping them or answers. She had been more than willing to brush him and his actions off like nothing before, but they had unfortunately become too much for her to withstand, and now the feelings and thoughts for both him _and_ Carly were overwhelming. Through the haze of her two friends' random and bizarre behavior, however, a tiny, inapposite question floated among them: _Why does all of this bother me so much?_

Sam reached into the grape bowl, plucked one out, and placed it in her mouth and began chewing.... It tasted bitter.

"And I call it," she could hear Spencer say from across the room. She looked over to see that at some point during his speech, he had stood up to his full, towering height. Sam watched as he threw his arms in the air as if proclaiming some sort of victory and shouted, "'Snail Mail'!"

"Wow... that's actually a good idea!" Carly exclaimed. She gestured towards the bag Sam assumed was filled with snails. "You do know those things need to stay wet in order to stay alive though, right?"

"Right!" Spencer said, smacking a palm to his forehead. He quickly snatched up one of the bags, pointed his finger towards the ceiling and cried, "To the bath tub!" With that, he took off towards the bathroom, leaving a giggling Carly in his wake.

"Can you believe him sometimes?" she said, turning to send Sam a broad grin.

"No, I can't," Sam replied, her tone lacking amusement. The smile gracing Carly's features faultered slightly, only to slip away completely when Sam traveled around the counter and stomped straight up to her, the blond's stance telling her they had unfinished business to settle and she wasn't pleased of her avoidance. "Now what was it you were going to tell me?"

"I... look, can we just forget about that right now?" Carly said hopefully. "I'll tell you later."

"No, tell me _now_." Sam stomped her foot like a spoiled five year old who couldn't get some toy she wanted. "You're keeping something from me, Shay, and Mama doesn't like it."

"It's not that important," Carly tried again.

Sam's jaw dropped. "Not that important? What?! You were practically having a panic attack when you tried to tell me be--"

"Hey, I think Girly Cow might be on!" Carly, once again, didn't wait for Sam to speak before sitting down, grabbing the remote, and switching on the television. Sam was dumbstruck. She stared with wide eyes at the other girl, who simply ignored her and stayed focus on--or at least pretended to--flipping to the correct channel. When she managed this, she turned the volume up much higher than necessary, and leaned back leisurely with a contented sigh.

Sam wasn't sure how long she just stood there, watching Carly, who kept her eyes glued to the screen, with shock written all over her face. After a while, however, she gave up and dropped down next to her with a scowl. Sam gave her a sideways glare; she'd get it out of her sooner or later, and Carly had better count on that.

They watched the show in awkward silence, the conversations from before hanging over their heads making things uneasy between them. Sam was only half paying attention to what was going on on her favorite show, the questions from before and a bundle of new ones forcing her from giving it her full attention. She would periodically glance over at Carly, who remained like a statue, not even blinking as she "supposedly"--Sam doubted she really was--watched the television.

At one point, Carly took her phone out and began to text someone. Sam craned her head over Carly's shoulder just in time to see it had been sent to Freddie. She quickly moved back before Carly could notice her, and started to wonder what her text said, though she was sure it was her asking about his date. A few seconds later, Sam mindlessly stood up, strolled into the kitchen, and pulled out her own cell. She wasn't even sure why she was doing it exactly when she found herself typing out a text of her own for the nub:

_How was the date, Freddork? Or maybe the real question is: how much did you pay her? :P_

Sam snickered lightly as she sent it. It made her feel better to insult him; whatever Carly's problem was could (always) take a backseat when compared to finding creative ways to belittle the dork. It also helped with those aggravating questions bubbling in her skull that were starting to become quite a nuisance. While some people had drugs and hobbies and interests to make themselves feel good, Sam had ridiculing Freddie. Well, _that_ and food.

Sam got a couple fat cakes out from the cupboard to not seem suspicious for her random departure--well, plus, she _really_ wanted some--and made her way back into the living room with a new sense of comfort and willingness to actually pay attention to Girly Cow now.

It was around eight-thirty when Carly's phone began to buzz. As she flipped it open, Sam took the opportunity during Carly's initial distraction to snag another brief look over her shoulder to read his reply:

_Sorry, I can't. Mom has to spray me. It wasn't fun though. Tell you details later. :)_

Sam felt relieved and happy, and perceived it as feeling joyous his date was a stinker and that she could rub it in his face later now. Carly, on the other hand, appeared utterly nervous, confused and fearful--the "I'm scared of the dark" kind this time. Sam watched out of the corner of her eye as she closed her phone, carefully placed it on the table beside her, and made her hair into a curtain, concealing her face from view. Sam furrowed her eyebrows at this, but decided against leaning forward to get another glimpse of her; that would just be weird.

Ten minutes later, when her own phone had yet to indicate a new message, Sam felt a small pang in her chest but chose to not acknowledge it as anything worth worrying about; she must have eaten those fat cakes too fast, that's all. Another five minutes passed, and a vibration could be felt against her upper thigh. Sam quickly dove her hand in to her pocket to retrieve her phone. A smile she didn't even know she was wearing disappeared when she saw the text wasn't from who she originally expected:

_sam, new bikini! hurry home, please! ;)_

"Ugh!" Sam rolled her eyes. _Of course_ it was from her mom.

Running the predicament past Carly, the two girls managed to pull Spencer away from his snails--who he had been singing to when they opened the bathroom door--to drive her home. The ride there was pretty quiet and uneventful, Sam mostly keeping her attention locked on the rushing scenery, her phone in her lap and her leg tapping. When they reached her place, Carly and Sam gave each other a fleeting wave before Spencer sped off, neither appearing cheerful for their own, personal reasons.

As Sam made her way to the house, her phone started to buzz again. With the same speed as earlier, Sam snapped it open and started to read, this time pleased to see the bright, blue words "King Dork" blinking back at her:

_Ha ha, real funny, Puckett. Leave me alone._

Sam's heart plummeted as she reread it over. She tried to swallow back the vile taste in her mouth in vain. It was like the arcade incident all over again; while precious, perfect Carly--she didn't even stop to consider why she was thinking that this time, knowing perfectly well it was true--got smiles and kindness and fast replies, Sam got a "leave me alone." Sure, she didn't expect anything super nice, but the hostility she received surprised her; usually he wasn't so vicious and blunt, and could tell she was just joking.

In that moment, taking in all that had happened in a mere two hours, letting it blast over her like a waterfall, she suddenly had the urge to slam her phone against the ground, and smash it into a million pieces. That would mean stealing another one though, which would just be too much of a hassle. So instead she sighed as she shoved it into her sweater pocket, her wave of frustration turning into a sudden wave of exhaustion that overcame her entire body.

_This has been one heck of a night._

Her arms fell limp to her side as she finished the distance to her front door, and upon opening it, was greeted with some green, some yellow, some stars, and a pain in her stomach that made her want to puke.

-:-

"ARGH, NO FOOD IN MY LOBBY!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Sam dismissed Lewbert's crazy ranting with a flick of her wrist as she continued to eat her giant, blueberry muffin and ascended the stairs, his angry screaming--thankfully--becoming fainter and fainter until it was inaudible altogether. When she made it to the eighth floor, she ventured over to the Shays' door, and burst in.

"Hey, you didn't knock. Surprise," Spencer said when he saw her. Sam shrugged and walked further in, but froze mid-step when Spencer sprung up from the small stool he had been sitting on, and started to flail his arms around as he made incoherent noises of protest, "Nah-nee-naah--"

"_What?_"

"Neeh--watch out for Sparky!" he cried. Sam glanced down and found an itty bitty snail right below her shoe. It was in that moment that she noticed the floor was covered with what she assumed to be hundreds of snails, half wearing a different assortment of stamps on their shells, while the others still had yet to be marked. Whoa, how did she miss _that_? She must have been _very_ preoccupied with her muffin. Well, it _was_ scrumptious after all.

"Sparky?" she mimicked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you name _all_ these snails?"

"Yeah," Spencer answered, shrugging a shoulder like this was all perfectly normal. "That's Sparky." He held up the one he had just put a stamp on. "This one's Winona. Then there's Wilbert, Lenny, Butch, Mister Fickle, Senor Nacho--"

"Okay," Sam cut in harshly, _really_ not planning to stick around while Spencer named off his snails. She smirked. "I can't believe you're really doing this."

"Yup." Spencer puffed his chest out gallantly.

"How do you keep them wet?"

"Ah." Spencer bent down, picked up a water bottle, and began to squirt at some snails. He grinned proudly. "Huh? Huh?"

"Where's Carly?" Sam asked with a bored tone, taking a huge bite out of her muffin.

"Not here," Spencer mumbled, his shoulders slumping at her vanishing interest. "She went to the store, but should be back soon. You _could_ wait upstairs in the studio for her, _or_... you could stay down here and help me stamp snails--"

"See ya," Sam replied, maneuvering around the snails and starting up the stairs. The last thing she heard before hitting the second floor was Spencer say, "Oh well, guess it's just you guys and me still. Now then, Peppermint Bonbon, it's your turn."

Sam entered the empty studio. The first thing she did was fall down onto a bean bag, but after a couple minutes of waiting and getting fidgety, she got up and resorted to pacing the room, humming Cuttlefish songs as she ate. It was when she began to walk towards the crevice where their guests usually came out from that she tripped on something, hit the ground, and released her hold on her muffin, causing it to roll away. She snarled as she snapped her head back to see a wire wrapped around her ankle.

"Stupid dork and his stupid tech-junk," she grumbled, getting back up and being sure to step _over_ the wire this time. She walked into the crevice, and picked up her now dusty muffin that had hit the wall. Sam brushed off some of the particles and, with a shrug, took a bite; some people had the "five second" warning, Sam had the "five minute."

The ding of the elevator made her ears perk, and she was beginning to enter back into the main part of the studio when two loud, angry voices filled the air, seeming to be in a very heated argument. This caused her to make an abrupt change of plans, and move further into the darkness until her back was pressed against the wall. She was stunned when, after few more seconds of their overlapped yelling, she registered the two voices as Carly and Freddie.

"I can't believe you--"

"_Ssh!_"

"Don't you shush me, Shay!"

"Will you _shut up_, Freddie? Spencer said _she_ was up here."

There a moment of quietness, Sam assuming they were searching the room for her presence (that was the only _she_ that she could think of). She held her breath when she heard footsteps coming towards her, releasing it with relief when she heard whoever it was stop and walk away. She couldn't let herself be known; it was obvious by what Carly said that whatever they were talking about, it was a secret--Sam's teeth grounded together at the word--meant only for them, and she was positive it had something to do with last night. If she was going to get the answers she wanted, she had to stay hidden.

_Perfect opportunity to practice my "invisible ninja" skills._

"Hey, surprise, surprise, she's not here!" Freddie cried.

"Where do you think she went?"

"Well, either Spencer is going delusional by spending the past two days talking to _snails_ and only _thinks_ he saw her, or 'never gets full' Puckett got impatient and left to go rob some store for food because _everyone knows_ she never has money!" he yelled, his voice still dripping with rage.

Sam dropped her eyes towards the dirty muffin in her hands, scowling. _I'll have you know, Benson, I don't rob stores... I rob _people_, then buy stuff at stores._

"What is your deal?" Carly hissed.

"My deal? My deal is that _you_ were about to tell 'loudmouth' Puckett--"_ What is up with these names?_ Sam thought with furrowed eyebrows "--what happened!"

"Well... she said the 'never keep secrets' thing," Carly said timidly.

"Oh, really? Shocking!" Freddie said sarcastically. "Playing that card, huh? What a weak move!"

"You play that card all the time," Carly scoffed.

"Yeah, and _I'm_ _weak_!"

Silence engulfed them, their footsteps sounding as if they were separating in different directions. Sam was astonished. Rarely--actually, she was pretty sure it was _never_--in her life had she ever heard either of them talk to each other with such aggression before. Typically it was her and Freddie who were screaming their heads off at each other from across the room, but now here he was, using the tone he usually reserved for only her on Carly of all people. And Carly sounded just as mean in return.

Had this crevice sent her to some alternate universe or something without her knowing? Where birds swam, fish flew, and Gibby actually wore shirts?

"Look, I'm sorry," Freddie started after a while, his voice now calm. "I didn't mean to get so angry at you."

"It's okay."

Sam stuck her finger in throat and let out a soft gagging noise. So much for that alternate universe.

"I just don't think we should tell Sam about this promise we have. At least not yet." Sam immobilized her movements. Where did she hear something like that before?

"She's going to get suspicious."

Freddie laughed, "Oh, please. When has Sam Puckett ever cared about my life besides trying to destroy it?"

"True, true," Carly chuckled.

For some reason, that hurt Sam that he thought that about her. True, she wasn't the most loving and sweet of girls, but as much as she hated to admit it, she _did_ care about the dweeb. It was hard to tell sometimes probably, but she had at least hoped he had an inkling she did.

"So, um...." Carly's voice cracked. "D-did you... well...."

"No."

Carly sighed. "Really?"

"She had bucked teeth, Carly! I'm sorry! Plus... she kind of smelled like brussel sprouts."

"You are so shallow, Freddie Benson!" Carly huffed, half-amused, half-irritated. "Guess that means two more to go...."

"Yup... and you'll really--"

"Yes!" she screeched. "I just wish I had someone to talk to about this... it's too much weight on my shoulders."

"Well--"

"Oh, don't you even give me that 'I'm fine without sharing' jank! You're a _boy_, Freddie. I'm a _girl!_ Girls need to talk to other girls, and Sam is my best friend and I just wish--"

"_Carly_...! I wasn't going to say that."

"Oh... what were you going to say then?"

"I was going to tell you I've actually been talking to this person... a girl. A _really smart_ girl."

"You... you told someone?!"

"No, no--ah! Ow, Carly, stop! Wait!" Repeated smacking noises filled the surroundings around them all, and Sam raised her eyebrows. _Whoa. _

"And you go and freak out on--"

"It's not like that, Carly, _stop_...!" The smacks ceased. "Are you done attacking me now?"

"You get thirty seconds to explain before I start again," Carly gasped angrily, most likely trying to catch her breath. Sam leaned forward, beyond interested in what he had to share.

"Okay, okay, hold your chizz. I know I should have told you about this earlier when you asked 'why now,' but you do know about that--"

"_Carly!_" Spencer's voice bellowed from downstairs, causing Sam to jerk. She froze with fear when her spasm caused her to ram into the folded chairs propped up beside her, knocking them over and creating a loud _crash! _Both Carly and Freddie screamed girlishly.

"What was that?" Carly whispered after a pause.

"I don't know... sounded like it came from over there."

Sam began to panic, desperately scanning the darkness for more concealment. She heard someone approaching her again, and this time, they would find her for sure if she didn't act fast. _What would an invisible ninja do?_

She rubbed her temples, trying to think. When they were only inches away, all Sam could come up with to do was push herself into the right corner as much as she could, and cover her mouth with her hand to muffle her raspy breathing. _Some ninja,_ she inwardly jeered at herself.

Carly spoke up, her voice so close Sam learned it was her coming to investigate, "Did it come from--"

"Car-_LAAH!_" Spencer's frantic cries rang again.

"_Argh_, what does he want?" Carly muttered, moving away from Sam's location. The blond's heart was practically beating out of chest at this point. _Oh, praise all meat._

"I'm not sure, but he really sounds like he needs some help. You should go check it out."

"But what about this girl you were talking about?"

"I, um... I'll tell you later, alright? Spencer needs you right now."

"Yeah, you're right." Sam could hear her scuffle across the floor, letting out a brassy "I'm coming" when Spencer called for her again. The door swiftly opened and closed a second later, and Sam knew she was gone.

She wasn't out of the clear yet, though. She could still hear Freddie's breathing, he shoes shuffling where he stood. Sam kept her mouth covered and stayed put in the corner, nervous he might come over to see for himself what the ruckus had been.

After an _eternity_, she finally heard him let out a sigh, then the door creak open once more and slam shut behind him. She let out a large quantity of air she was unaware she had been holding, and stepped out from the darkness, alleviated with freedom. She munched into her neglected muffin. _Success!_

"I knew you were back there."

Sam halted in her tracks, her teeth still lodged into her muffin. She turned slowly with huge eyes as she saw Freddie standing by the exit door, leaning against the wall. His arms were folded, and Sam wasn't sure if his lips were supposed to be morphed into a smirk or a frown.

It was like the cat catching the mouse... and for a change, Sam was the mouse.

Freddie pushed himself off the wall and advanced towards her, the analogy making more sense as he moved like a predator stalking its prey. "So are you going to tell me _why_ you were hiding out back there, or just stand there like an idiot?" When he reached her, coming so close that his breathing tickled her face, he did something that baffled Sam to no end: he flicked her on the nose.

Sam staggered back, her eyes popping. Sometimes she still couldn't believe his confidence now; come four years ago, he wouldn't have even dreamed to do something like that to her, let alone actually do it. And if he had managed such a feat, he would have bolted in fright before she had time to even blink. Not now though; now he stood his ground, smirking at the effect he had on her.

"None of your business, nub," Sam barked when she composed herself, swiping her nose. She narrowed her eyes. "Do that again, and I'll snap your arms."

"Yeah, okay," Freddie replied, rolling his eyes. He gasped in agony when Sam smashed her fist against his still healing shoulder, the yellow bruise there now probably going to return to its original purple color.

"Yeah, okay," she mocked, grinning wickedly as he heaved. She continued taking the bite she intended on eating before, satisfied.

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you?" Freddie snapped when he managed to cope with the sustaining pain. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"It _means_, dilweed, I heard _enough_ to know you two are up to something, and I'm going to find out what. If it be torture, blackmail, throwing a tantrum, believe me, I'll find out somehow."

Freddie, aggravated, childishly knocked the remaining muffin out of her hands as she attempted to bring it towards her mouth again. The pair followed the muffin as it rolled around at their feet, collecting more dust and who knows what else. Sam waited until it was motionless, gingerly picked it up, and rubbed her sleeve against it. She smirked smugly at Freddie's grossed out expression as she took another bite.

"Wice wye."

"Just stay out of our business, Puckett," Freddie growled, jabbing a finger at her.

"But no more secrets," Sam said sweetly, her eyelids fluttering. "Don't you remember that, Fredward?"

"That's not going to work on me."

"Never said it was."

"Just... just leave me alone, Sam! For once can you just respect that?! I want to handle this with _just_ _Carly_...!"

The same feelings from last Saturday and the ones from last night overtook her in an instant, and Sam felt a tremble course through her from the intensity of it all. Her vision began to grow fuzzy, while her mind went black. She blinked rapidly, starting to become woozy and trying to maintain her balance. She could sort of make out the blurry outline of Freddie, who seemed to be running a hand through his hair. A heartbeat later, he was now gripping at it instead, throwing a death glare straight at her. Her eyes went back to normal at this, and she caught sight of her muffin on the ground beside him. She noticed her own hand then: it was positioned as if she had just thrown something--the muffin--but she couldn't remember doing it.

"Wha... what is the _matter_ with you lately?!"

"Nothing!" she bellowed.

"Don't--"

"You want me to leave you alone so bad? Fine!"

It was like déjà vu. Sam roughly shoved past him, and headed towards the door. Just as she was reaching for the knob, however, something happened that made the situation differ from prior events: she felt a strong hand gripe her upper bicep, preventing her from leaving.

It was like an explosion of electricity that started from the spot where they were touching, and shot through her whole being. It was rare for her and Freddie to make any contact that wasn't of the violent-type, but in the few moments where they had hugged or brushed hands... Sam had never felt so exhilarated. She shuddered, and Freddie seemed to have felt this because he was removing his hold just as fast as he had put it there. A temptation erupted inside her that desired for her to protest; to have him wrap his warm fingers around her arm again.

Of course, she didn't. Of course, she scolded these desires and locked them away into the brooding sanctuary that was the back of her brain, never to see the light of day again. _Of course... of course... it's always that, isn't it?_

Freddie coughed uncomfortably. Sam twisted her neck around to see him standing right behind her, rubbing the hand he had used to grab her furiously against his pant leg, his ears and face an extremely bright red. "S-sorry... I... I didn't--"

Sam took the opportunity to make her escape, dashing out of the studio and down the stairs. He shouted her name, commanding for her to stop, but she kept running; since when did she listen to Freddork anyway? She made it to the first landing, happy to see he hadn't attempted to follow her, and caught a hold of the railing, gulping in air.

"Sam? When did you get here?"

Sam, who had slouched over to help refuel her energy quicker, directed her head towards the source, finding a rather confused Carly staring back at her. She was standing behind Spencer, a spatula in hand, trying to pry snails off her brother's body. Sam would have broken out into fits of hysterical laughter if she could.

"I, uh... h-have been here," Sam stuttered.

"Really? Where?"

"Y-your r-room... sleeping"

"Oh...." Carly didn't seem convinced. "Are you in a hurry? I mean, obviously, you ran down here like your butt was on fire, but if you had some spare time I could really use a--"

"A-actually... um, m-my mom... another new b-bikini.... You know how it is."

"Oh, okay."

"Ah, Carly," Spencer choked, "c-could you get the one on my ear? I-I think it's going to go into my skull."

Carly rolled her eyes as she scooped up the snail Spencer was gesturing towards, and tossed it into a nearby pail. "You should know using live animals as art never ends well for you by now."

"This is my last time, I swear."

"That's what you said after you found out that raccoon had rabies!"

"I'm serious this time!"

"_And_ when the jellyfish stung you!"

"Carly!"

As the two siblings bickered, Sam slipped out of the loft undetected. She flopped against the wall, leaning her head back and gazing up at the ceiling. She remained stationed there for a while, just mulling over _everything_. _Why is everything getting so complicated lately? Why am I... she... he... ugh!_ Everything raced through her brain like a video on fast-forward, her left arm still tingling. After a few deep intakes of oxygen, she regarded a different target that caused her to amble towards the elevator.

_I need another muffin._

-:-

*: _oui _(pronounced _wee_)--"yes" in French.

-:-

**A/N:** Whoa! This is the longest chapter _yet_! Over SEVEN-THOUSAND words; _wow!_ Are you as amazed as I am? lol! Personally, I'm very proud of this chapter! I didn't really like chapter six... but I think this chapter makes up for it, heh. Just my opinion though. Tell me what you think! Review (even though I'm not sure I need anymore... **154**? I'm floored, thank you all)! Also... hmm... I haven't got a flame since chapter two; will someone be willing to help with that? My marshmallows need some cooking now! ;)

To **thefbm**: I gave you some Spencer. Did I give him justice with his snails? haha, hope so! I added him for you, and I think he'll make another appearance in the future too--he brings much lolz for me. :D

Hmm... I think I might be sorta twisted, but I kind of love it when either Sam or Carly abuses Freddie... err.... _Anyway_, question! Yay! Here we go (it's iCarly-related this time): **If you could change _one thing_ about the show, what would it be? It could be ship related, actors, anything! Personally, I'd stop the excessive use of the laugh track _so. Much!_ Seriously, it goes off after _every_ line. It'll start playing, and I won't even get what's funny.... Don't get me wrong, iCarly is _hilarious_, but it's not _that_ hilarious, and the laugh track is just... annoying! Ugh! lol! Alright, one, two, three, tell me... your answer! :)**


	8. iGet The Second Letter

**Disclaimer:** I can't believe this... I slave over a hot stove every day, and this is how you repay me? By accusing me of copyright infringement?! Well you can just forget about that chicken dinner I had planned for tonight! If you still want it so bad, make it yourself!

-:-

Chapter 8:

_iGet The Second Letter_

-:-

Sam had spent the rest of her Saturday wandering aimlessly through Seattle, eating miscellaneous food and just thinking things over. Sometimes she had found herself rubbing a hand against her left arm, the annoying, tingling sensation still having yet to disappear. What was up with that? The seemingly unanswerable question nipped at her mind, as well as a hundred others, and it was around the time that she had taken a seat at the park that she came to the brilliant conclusion that she was hopelessly confused... and it aggravated her to no end.

There were many things that Sam Puckett hated--celery, school, stripes, the color fuchsia (all bright and girly and burning to the eyes)--and being confused was definitely in the top five on that list. She hated not understanding or being unaware of what was going on, and the past few weeks had only amplified those things by a thousand. Carly was acting all sorts of strange, she was out of some loop, and now for some reason, even the mere thought of... Freddie--she clutched her abdomen--made her want to puke... and it wasn't just because she found him disgusting. No, the knots in her stomach were obviously being caused by something else, but... what?

_And why does my stupid arm still tingle?!_

She had planned to avoid the Shays' residence for the remainder of the weekend, but after Carly called her Sunday and practically begged her to come over because she really, _really_ wanted to hang out, Sam gave in; even when she was royally irritated with her, it was hard to say "no" to that girl.

As Sam laced up her red and black converses, she took a moment to survey her room. After the sudden burst of anger that rushed through her the day before, she had run home and decided to use her bedroom to unleash her pent-up fury. Papers were scattered everywhere, her desk chair as well as other random items were tipped over, and there were even some feathers on the floor from her pillow that she had so mercilessly bit in to.

Shrugging, Sam left. This hadn't been the first time her bedroom had fallen victim to her infamous tantrums--the last time being when she was told Melanie was coming to visit for Christmas, which had resulted in torn wallpaper and a shoe flying through her window--and it probably wouldn't be the last. Besides, it wasn't really that much worse than how she normally liked to keep her room (despite her mother's demands, which usually fell on deaf ears). She knew she'd have to deal with it sooner or later though, but that wouldn't be for at least a couple days, so whatever.

The walk to Carly's seemed much faster than normal--and hoped--even when she actually _waited_ for the crossing sign to turn to "walk," or when she _literally_ stopped to smell the roses. _I can't believe I just did that,_ she thought, backing up from some coffee shop's flowerbed and scratching her nose. Even though Carly was her best friend and she had agreed to do this, it didn't eliminate the fact that she was still mad at her secretiveness with... that... boy... and she wasn't all that excited to see her.

Unfortunately, the distractions barely helped as Bushwell Plaza soon came in to view, and in no time, Sam was standing outside Carly's loft. With a sharp intake of air and a mental pep talk to keep her anger in check, Sam creaked the door open and stepped in. She instantly heard a squeal of delight and rapid footsteps, and was suddenly enveloped between two skinny arms that were a _lot_ stronger than they let off.

"Sam!" Carly yelled joyously, squeezing her tighter.

"Oxygen... n-need--"

"Oops, sorry." Carly abruptly released her, a light blush forming on her cheeks. Sam gasped for air, placing a hand to her chest. When her lungs were no longer pleading, Carly wrapped her hand around Sam's and led her over to the couch. "I've missed you so much."

"Missed me? Carly, you saw me two days ago," Sam replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes, and it's been two days of me missing you," Carly chuckled, forcing Sam down onto the cough next to her, keeping their hands linked. Sam stared at her as she grinned from ear to ear. Carly may have been acting strange before, but this was seriously taking it to the next level. Sam's facial expression must have shown her discomfort, because the overtly chipper girl quickly added with a slight pout, "What? Is it so wrong for me to miss my best friend?"

"Well... no, but--"

"Good!" Carly interrupted, her incredulous grin returning. Sam felt there was something else behind that smile, but she couldn't quite place her finger on what. "Now come on." Carly leaped up, and roughly yanked Sam to her feet. _Whoa! We just sat down,_ Sam thought as Carly dragged her over to the computer, babbling on, "I have to show you this really funny video on Splashface I found. So this guy is brushing his roommate's teeth, and then...."

The two girls basically spent the day watching ridiculous videos online, eating junk food, and coming up with new ideas for the next iCarly. Carly had calmed down as the day progressed, but there were still random moments when she would become incredibly cheerful and leery for no apparent reason, leaving Sam to ponder. Carly was predictable, so Sam had an inkling what her extreme mood swings had to do with, but a proper time to bring her theories to light was seemingly becoming impossible.

Sam was quite surprised with herself, having managed to bottle up her anger for the majority of the day. There were a couple times where she had accidentally let it show, however, though she was sure Carly hadn't noticed anything... _that_ unusual. The first was when the local dork decided to stop by unexpectedly and borrow some super glue for his science project, his mother forbidding such things at their house because she feared he'd glue something to himself, or worse, himself _to_ something. Sam resisted the desire to snicker.

Carly had skyrocketed into her questionable "I am so, _so_ happy" demeanor at his appearance, and Sam had become extremely quiet, keeping her attention focused on her drink--that began to vibrate in her shaky grip--and acting like he didn't just barge in. Freddie--she almost asked for a bucket--returned the favor by not acknowledging her either, and Sam was split between being relieved and annoyed by this; she honestly didn't want to talk to him, but _she_ was the one with the rights to be all aloof right now, not him. If anything, he should have been on his knees, kissing her feet and begging for her forgiveness for being a total nub yesterday, _not_ ignoring her.

Sam fought through the pains in her stomach, her boiling blood and the vile taste in her mouth, and took a glimpse here and there. At one point, Freddie... raised his eyebrows at Carly, who gave the smallest head shake Sam had ever witnessed. A huge smile was still plastered on her face, but her eyes were filled with "I can't do this" fear. Freddie's... lips quirked, a sign Sam took as reassurance for Carly--the gesture making her want to knock the lamp next to her over--and suddenly, he was staring over at her.

Sam's heart nearly stopped, she had to remind herself to keep breathing, and for a second there, she _really_ thought she was going vomit right on the sofa. His brown eyes were just so... so... _something_. Her left arm began to feel funny all over again, and she had the urge to rub it, but she didn't dare. Her insides were twisting in every direction, and she had to force herself to finally look away, half of herself upset with this decision, the other pleased.

She silently thanked pork when he departed right after, but was a bit shocked with herself when she hissed like an angry cat a second after the door shut behind him. Carly whirled around and shot her a bewildered yet amused look, and Sam immediately took a long swig from her glass as a cover-up.

_What is he doing to me...?_

The second incident occurred around dinner time. Sam and Carly were sitting on the couch, Spencer bustling around in the kitchen as he cooked and sang. The reality show they were currently watching was having a hard time keeping Sam's attention, and she found herself noting their situation was not all that different from two nights ago. Sick of the white elephant in the room, Sam took a plunge.

"So, Carly?"

"Hmm...?"

"Are you ever going to tell me what you were going to tell me Friday?"

Carly shifted, but her cheerful facade remained. "I already told you it was nothing," she chuckled.

"Nothing? Really?" Sam blinked. She had thought for sure that would have taken her off guard, but Carly just nodded.

Sam could practically feel her frustration bubbling to the surface. Carly was suppose to be her best friend, and here she was, listening to some dweeb and keeping her in the dark. What kind of friendship was _that_? She was just about to snap that she heard them yesterday and knew it wasn't "just nothing," but Spencer cut her off.

"Dinna 'ez served," he said in a _really_ bad attempt at a French accent. Carly was on her feet and skipping over to the table in no time. Sam let out a mix between a growl and a sigh and got up a few seconds later, walking over to the table at a much slower pace than the brunette and slumping down in front of her meal with a scowl. She watched sullenly as Carly and Spencer dug in. After a few bites, they both sent her stunned looks over the fact that she hadn't even started eating yet. Sam glared down at her food to avoid their gazes.

_Stupid Carlotta, keeping something from me. Stupid Ms. Bumbleworth and her stupidly ugly clothes. Stupid Gibby and his... stupidity! Stupid Fredweird, making me all... argh, I don't even know! This is just all so... stupid! I. Can't. Take. Any. More. Of. This--_

"Sam, what are you doing?!"

Sam jerked at the Carly's shrill voice, and she turned to see her sending her a glare, a napkin in hand as she dabbed at her shirt that was now covered in marinara sauce spots. Sam then looked straight ahead at Spencer, who held his food near his open mouth, but made no attempts to eat it. She finally averted her eyes downward to her own plate, her once perfectly crafted spaghetti tacos now a heap of noodles, sauce and broken shells that were splattered all around. Her hand was wrapped around her usually ignored fork so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, and the pointed parts of it were jabbed right into the center of her mess.

_Oops..._

"Oh, sorry, Carls. Just... making spaghetti taco salad!" Sam cried, forcing a wide grin on her face as she scooped up some of her disaster, and stuffed it in her mouth. "Mmm, mmm."

Carly eyed her curiously, now running a fresh napkin through the bits of food that had gotten into her hair. Out of curiosity, Sam took a snag down at her own appearance, and was unsurprised to find her yellow shirt and blond curls looked as if she had just got done brutally stabbing someone... with taco shells. With a shrug, she continued eating. _Whatever._

After dinner, Sam found herself being pulled forcefully by the wrist all the way to Carly's room, and thrown down onto the pink, floral print comforter. Carly hovered over her, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed.

"What the heck, Carls--?"

"What was _that_?" Carly cut in, motioning wildly towards her bedroom door. She then gestured at her light blue shirt, emphasizing the stains. "Look what you did to one of my favorite shirts!"

Sam sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. Just wash it; it'll be fine."

"You've been acting really weird today, Sam," Carly said with a shake of her head, turning to rummage through her dresser for a fresh shirt.

"What?" Sam's jaw dropped. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know... you've just seemed... mad?"

Sam fidgeted a little. "Yeah, well... you haven't been acting all that sane yourself," she retorted, attempting to turn the focus away from herself.

Carly stopped going through her clothes, her shoulders tensed, and although she kept her back facing in her direction, Sam knew she wore a worried expression. "Yes I have--"

"No you haven't! You've been prancing around here, acting like you just ate some 'loopy' pills."

"I do not prance." Carly clicked her tongue, and picked out a red shirt with black dots. She glanced over her shoulder at Sam, who had taken a moment out of their conversation to swipe her finger across her own dirty shirt and lick off the sauce she managed to obtain. Carly sighed, disgusted, reached into her dresser again, and flung an orange penny-tee at her friend with the words "Monkey Funky" on it. Sam simply nodded in thanks.

The two girls quickly changed, and Carly soon joined Sam on her bed. She cleared her throat. "So... are you going to tell me why you're mad?"

"I'm not mad," Sam lied with ease. "Are you going to tell me why you've been so 'fake happy' today?"

"I haven't been 'fake happy,'" Carly replied quickly. She moved her eyes down to her boots that she was swinging back and forth, and Sam inwardly compared her pose to a person guilty of a crime. The crime in question here? Lying. Badly.

"Oh, come on, Carls. Yeah, you're a perky person... but you and I both know something is up...."

There was a long, awkward pause after this, until Carly mumbled, "I'm just excited to be hanging out with you...."

Sam was about to reply with something mindless, when she digested Carly's words and tone fully, and it all hit her like a pound of bricks. It was _so_ obvious, how hadn't she seen it before? Carly's odd happiness, Freddie--_ugh_--and her's weird little exchange; she had a feeling it was about the incident on Friday between them, but now she was certain that was only a minuscule part of it.

"You want to tell me, don't you...? What's going on between you and... F-Fredweird." A pain shot through her stomach at voicing the name aloud and she let out a small groan, but luckily, Carly didn't seem to notice.

Carly's head shot up, and her eyes widened. "There is nothing going on between me and Fre--"

"He told you, didn't he?" Sam straightened up as Carly lifted her legs, curled them up so her chin rested on her knees, and began to hug them. "You know I was in the studio yesterday and I heard you guys talking, don't you?"

Carly cringed... then slowly nodded.

"And you invited me over today to act like everything is 'normal' and have been forcing yourself to be cheerful so I don't ask questions... but you really just want to tell me, don't you? It's eating you up inside that you have to keep this from me, am I right?"

A hesitant pause, then another nod.

"Why don't you just tell me?" Sam groaned, knitting her eyebrows together.

Carly furiously shook her head. "N-no, I can't."

"Why not?" Sam whined.

"Because... it's complicated... and I promised I wouldn't say anything, and just... no." Carly placed her hands on top of her head, and curled herself up even more. When she spoke again, it came out as an almost muffle, and Sam had to crane her ear to hear, "You'd freak out."

"Why?" Sam chuckled, but Carly just shook her head once more, and Sam slumped her shoulders in defeat. "Alright, fine...." She wasn't sure what else to say, when suddenly, it was like she could practically see the light bulb turn on beside her head. "But what if I... guessed?" Carly's brown eyes peeked out from behind her hair, and Sam smirked. "I could ask some questions, and you could just shake your head 'yes' or 'no'... technically, that's not you _saying_ anything."

Carly uncoiled herself, and contemplated this for a few seconds. "Hmm, that's... true.... I... suppose--"

"Awesome!" Sam yelled, bouncing her butt on the bed and causing Carly to shriek.

Sam thought over all she knew so far while Carly nervously picked at a loose string on her comforter. The blond decided to start with, "So you and Freddie have some sort of 'promise' going on, right?"

A silent 'yes' from Carly.

"And it has to do with him going on dates?"

'Yes.'

Sam began to grow excited; she was finally getting somewhere.

"And you have to do something after a certain number of dates?"

Carly fidgeted. 'Y-yes.'

"Two dates?"

'No.'

"Three?"

'Yes.'

"And he's been on one?"

'No.'

Sam's eyes widened. "Two?"

'Yes.'

"When was the other one?!" Sam screamed right into her ear, causing Carly to fly off the bed. Carly scrambled to her feet.

"Sam!"

"When?" Sam asked more quietly. Her eyes bore into the brunette's, and Carly seemed to register something in Sam's reaction, because she didn't try to comment on the fact that she wasn't suppose to be vocalizing anything. Either that, or she just didn't care anymore.

"Yesterday," she answered.

Sam's already widened eyes grew double in size. Two in one weekend?

"With who?"

"Lesley Grendel."

"That skunk bag?!" Sam felt sick just imagining her, with her long red hair and bra strap always hanging off her shoulder. She shook her head, trying to get the mental image out of her head of Lesley and Nerdward sitting at some fancy restaurant, laughing and chatting, her bra strap dangling. "Why is he doing this, Carly?" Her voice came out as a sorrowful whisper, which shocked both of them. Sam, realizing what that could have been taken as, stammered out, "W-what do you have to do after the third date?"

Carly began to croak, "I-I... h-he... I--"

"Sour Love" by Cuttlefish started to play throughout the room, and Sam's temper flared as she retrieved her phone, flipped it open without looking to see who was calling, and growled into the mouthpiece, "_What?_"

"Samantha Joy Puckett!" her mother shouted from the other line, causing Sam to flinch and pull the phone away from her ear. "What in the world did you do to your room?! You get home right now and clean it up!"

"You're home? But I thought you were going to be in Vegas with Billy the Bull until Wednesday!"

"No, that was a bust. Turns out Billy the Bull was only dating me to make Scarlett the Snake jealous, and of course, it worked! Who wouldn't be jealous of me? Now you better start running to clean this mess up, young lady! I'm raising a daughter here, _not_ a pig!"

"Argh!" Sam snapped her phone shut, and turned to a now curious Carly. "I have to go and clean my room."

"Yeah, I heard that part clearly, but... Billy the Bull?"

"My mom has been hanging out with this group of people lately who like to put types of animals after their names. She's Lisa the Leopard." Carly opened her mouth. "Don't ask." She closed it.

"Well... you better go and do that, and... I'll tell you everything later, alright?" Carly breathed, wringing her hands together. Sam raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "I mean it this time! I promise... just give me some time, and I'll tell you everything you want to know and _then some_, okay?"

Sam pointed at her. "Ankle swear?"

Carly giggled and rolled her eyes playfully. "Ankle swear."

After they completed the necessary steps, Sam rolled up her dirty shirt, said goodbye, and ventured down the stairs. She was just about to exit when something peculiar caught the corner of her eye, and she slowly looked over towards the couch to see Spencer kneeling in front of a lobster, painting it with white stuff and humming some tune.

"Uh, Spence... why do you have a lobster?"

"It's for a new sculpture idea."

"_Okay_... but didn't you say you were never gonna use life animals again after the snail incident?"

"Yeah, I _know_, but I just saw this guy... or gal...?" He picked it up, lifted it up over his head, scanned the bottom of it, then dropped it. "_Lobster_ at the store, and I got the most brilliant idea and couldn't resist."

"What are you putting on it?"

"Glue!" Spencer answered giddily.

"Why?" Sam snickered.

Spencer reached behind him, and grabbed a pail filled with stones. "I'm going to glue these to it. It's going to be a 'Rock Lobster'!" He put the pail down, and went back to pasting and humming. Suddenly, he frowned, dropped his brush, and began to yank at the bands around the lobster's claws. "Can't have these on there though. It'll make it look unnatural."

"I'm out," Sam said, raising her hands and turning back towards the door. She exchanged goodbyes with Spencer--as well as wished him luck, though he took it that she meant in crafting his sculpture--walked out into the hallway, and was unsurprised to hear a scream of agony fill the air not that long after shutting the front door. With a chuckle, Sam began to head towards the stairs, but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard another door click open and a familiar voice say her name.

"What do _you_ want?" she grumbled, turning around to face the geeky owner of the voice who called her. She made a face when she saw him holding up a wooden knight shield like the cheap ones you get at Jay Mart in the kids' section. "What's with the lame toy?"

"Oh, nothing. Just protecting myself if I happen to be assaulted by another muffin." He peered over the top of it, and Sam scoffed as she held up her sauce-covered shirt to show him there was nothing to worry about, no muffins. With a sigh of relief, he lowered the shield. "Cool."

"What do you want?" Sam repeated, folding her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. She gazed intensely at the wall, trying to actually keep her food down.

"I just wanted to apologize. I was kind of a jerk to you yesterday...."

Sam finally looked at him, and as expected, there was a lurch in her stomach. It wasn't as unpleasant though. It only made her feel a tad... dizzy. "Yeah, kind of," she snorted, but it wasn't as harsh as she had meant it to be. Freddie smiled sheepishly, and Sam could practically feel her anger dissolve into nothing. "But hey, just... just forget about it. It's no big deal."

Freddie was taken aback. "Really?"

"Yeah," Sam replied honestly, shrugging. It was hard to believe that only a few hours ago, she had expected him to give up all his dignity--the little amount he had left, that is--in order to win her forgiveness, but now here she was, giving it to him without either breaking a sweat. She didn't know why, but despite everything that had been going on... she didn't want to keep being mad at him.

They fell into an awkward silence, Sam subconsciously rubbing her left arm, Freddie subconsciously rubbing his left hand against his pants. It was finally Sam who decided to break their uncomfortable situation with, "Heard about your date with Lesley. Fun?" _Why did I bring that up?!_

"Eh, not really... she's kind of a... a--"

"Skunk bag?" Sam said helpfully.

"Yeah," Freddie laughed.

Sam was just about to ask why was he going on all these dates, but bit her tongue; Carly had already promised to tell her everything, and it would just be fruitless to bring it up to him. Besides, they had just put one argument behind them, and even though Sam loved their bickering the majoirty of the time, the moment they were in felt sort of... nice. No disagreeing, no name calling; just them talking civilly. It was... nice.

Sam blinked and stumbled back. Somewhere in here revere, Freddie had moved closer to her. His face was now only inches away, and Sam could feel his hot breath tickle her skin. His eyes--that Sam could now see had little specks of gold in them--held that same intense look they had on Thursday, but this time, there was far more determination present. A chill ran down Sam's spine as he took another step forward, and she took another one back.

"W-what's your deal, Benson?" she stuttered, trying to maintain her composure and not let her tough exterior crumble.

"Sam... why are you so... um...." And just like Thursday, he faultered. Sam was lost. What did he keep trying to ask her that was so important that he kept failing at the actual asking part? Why was she so _what_? She attempted to rake her brains and try to get some sort of hint as to what it was, but it was in vain; all she could think about was how close in proximity they were, and how her stomach was now doing cartwheels.

"Sour Love" hit their ears, and it seemed to wake them both up from some sort of trance. They both rapidly blinked, and stepped further back from each other in unison. Sam fished her phone out of her pocket and answered with a gruff, "Yeah?"

"Hurry up!" her mother's voice shouted.

"I'm on my way, mom!"

"You're on your way, _what_?"

Sam's grip tightened on the phone. "I'm on my way...," she glanced at Freddie, feeling embarrassment rising, and finished through gritted teeth, "Lisa the Leopard."

"Ah, good. That's what I thought you said. Now hurry up!"

Sam disconnected the call at that, and shoved her phone back into her pocket, utterly irritated. Freddie was watching her questionably. "I have to go clean my room."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Um... Lisa the Leopard?"

"Don't ask," Sam said far more dangerously than when she told the same thing to Carly. She pounded a fist against her open palm to help make her point clearer.

"Okay, I won't," he squeaked.

More awkward silence.

"I'll see ya tomorrow then," Sam mumbled.

"Yeah... see ya."

The pair hastily parted ways, Freddie dashing back into his house while Sam practically flew down the stairs and out of the Bushwell, Lewbert's panicky screaming about "no running in the lobby" following behind her. She was lightheaded from the whole ordeal as she started to walk down the sidewalk, and she decided to turn on some music from her phone in hopes to making the journey there easier. Everything seemed to melt away as she drowned in the enticing melody and lyrics about girls and their secret addictions.

Sam arrived home in no time to an enraged mother, new forming twists in her stomach the moment she shut her phone off, and wishes that she had a maid.

-:-

When Monday rolled around, the trio seemed to come to some mutual, unspoken agreement to remain natural around each other and their peers. There was still that underlying tension going on between one another, but there were better places to bring that up than at school, and plus, the hectic weekend sort of drained all of it out of them for the time being. So as usual, Carly was perky, Freddie was dorky, and Sam was freaking out.

"What did you just say that nerd contraption was for?!"

"Sam, calm down," Carly said soothingly, placing a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam pushed her off, lunged forward with outstretched arms, gripped a very frightened Freddie's collar, and tugged him towards her.

"Tell me!" she bellowed, her hair more tangled than normal and her eyes wild.

"Sam!"

"I-it's for the AV c-club," Freddie stuttered, trying to pry himself loose. Sam let him go just as he yanked back extra hard, and he found himself falling down onto the tiles, the strange, wired contraption he was holding flying out of his hands and landing in the middle of the hall. And as luck would have it, one of those giant cleaning machines the janitors used decided to drive by at that exact moment, and sweep the thing away.

"_Noooo!_" Freddie yelled dramatically, stretching his hand out as he watched it fall apart between the bristles. He put his head down, and began to pound his fist against the floor. "No, no, no. The guys trusted me with that... what am I gonna do?"

Carly was in the middle, torn on who to comfort. Her best guy friend was currently on the ground crying about some wired thingy-mer-bob she didn't really care about, and her best girl friend now had her head shoved into her locker as she screamed bloody murder into it, kicking her foot against the locker beneath her's and leaving noticeable dents. With a shrug, Carly walked away. They could figure it out on their own. Besides, Spencer promised her Galini's after school, and she didn't want to be late for that.

_How could I forget about those Anna replies?_ Sam thought bitterly as she managed to calm down enough to pull her head out, and slam her locker shut. She jumped a little when she saw Freddie standing right next to her, his hands balled up into fists at his sides and his breathing heavy against her cheek.

"Fre--"

"That was... two-hundred dollars... worth of equipment that you... just _broke_."

"Hey, it's not my fault you're uncoordinated," Sam said venomously, shoving him aside and walking past him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meat club issue to go and deal with."

"Meat club?" she could hear him say coldly. "I know there's no meat club, Puckett!"

Even though her mind told her to keep going, Sam halted. She turned around, and narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes there is."

"No, there isn't. I asked Principal Franklin."

Sam stalked towards him slowly, threateningly. "Why, may I ask, did you ask him _that_, dork?"

"I wanted to know why it wasn't on the list of clubs."

"It's private."

"Then how come Franklin has never heard of it?"

"It's _really_ private."

"Yeah right." Even though she was right next to him now and looked like she was about to kill him where he stood, Freddie didn't back down. Instead he crossed his arms defiantly and said smugly, "You're up to something."

Low, rumbling sounds began to emit from Sam's throat, and she used her elbow to thrust his body against the lockers behind him, wiping the smirk clean off his face. "If you get secrets, Benson... then so do I. Back off."

Leaving it at that, Sam stopped pinning him and he slid to the ground where he gasped, his ears and face bright red. With that, she twisted around and stomped away. When she reached the newspaper classroom, she inspected her surroundings just in case the dork was stupid and decided to follow her. Seeing that the coast was clear, she slipped inside and was greeted with a very unhappy Ms. Bumbleworth.

"You're late," the teacher scolded, tapping her watch with her index finger.

"Er... oops?"

Ms. Bumbleworth sighed, "Oh, just forget it. Just let me see your replies." She held her hand out, but Sam didn't move a muscle and just stared at her blankly. "Um... Sam?"

"Well, you see.... Ms. Bumbleworth, uh... my cat, Frothy... he's pretty rabid and he... ate... my replies?" Sam said, her excuse coming out as more of a question than a statement.

_Well that was pathetic._

Ms. Bumbleworth's arm fell limp. "You didn't do them, did you...?"

"Am I going to Summer school?" Sam muttered sadly.

There was a long pause before Ms. Bumbleworth finally sighed, "No, you're not going to Summer school... we just have a blank spot we need to fill up now.... I suppose we can... but I really don't... oh, but we have no other choice... ugh, Gibby!"

The shirtless boy waddled over, munching on a banana. "Sup?"

"Gibby... remember how I told you you couldn't do that one article you _really_ wanted to do? Well... looks like you can now," Ms. Bumbleworth announced, sounding less than enthusiastic about it.

Gibby dropped the rest of his banana, the impact creating a _splat_ noise, and his eyes lit up. "You mean the one about the full body spandex suits?" he cried, clasping his hands together.

Ms. Bumbleworth pinched the bridge of her nose. "...Yes," she groaned.

Gibby squealed with excitement, and ran off to go collect his material. It was moments like these that Sam really stopped to take note on how bizarre that boy really was. _Full body spandex suits?_

"That boy is different, isn't he?" Ms. Bumbleworth thought aloud.

"Yup," Sam agreed. She then patted Ms. Bumbleworth on the arm. "Thanks, teach."

"Yes, well, this is a _one time_ thing, Sam. Don't let it happen again, alright? I might not be as lenient next time."

"Yeah, I got it. I've just had... a lot on my mind recently.... sort of forgot about them."

Ms. Bumbleworth waved her hand dismissively. "Ah, don't worry about it. We all have our days. This does mean you have to miss the party tomorrow though, since you didn't contribute to this issue."

"Bummer," Sam said sarcastically, though she was genuinely disappointed a tiny bit.

Ms. Bumbleworth chuckled. "I'll see you here on Wednesday, Sam."

"Yeah... see ya."

-:-

Tuesday was pretty uneventful. Well, minus Freddie showing up wearing a gigantic hot dog suit, but Sam wasn't as phased by it like everyone else; she just thought he finally embraced his inner weenie.

"W-why are you w-wearing that?!" Carly cried when he approached them that morning, before keeling over and submitting to a string of insane giggles.

"The AV--Carly, will you quit laughing?"

"S-sorry... pfft...."

"_Anyway_, the AV guys were pretty upset about the _blah blah blah_--" well that's what it sounded like to Sam at least "--being destroyed, so it was either be kicked out of the club... or wear this for the rest of the week...."

"Look, there's even ketchup!" Carly pointed out, falling victim to another fit of hysterics at the sight.

"Well I think it suits you perfectly," Sam said sincerely, causing Freddie to roll his eyes.

The rest of the day basically consisted of Sam coming up with hot dog-related jokes, which didn't make it totally boring. And fortunately, Freddie was too busy being ridiculed for the next couple days to confront Sam again about what she really did after school.

On Wednesday Sam entered the news room, a rather dinky pile of letters awaiting her. She figured it was because her column hadn't shown up in the latest issue, but she didn't care; less letters meant less work, which was just fine with her.

As she started to dig through them, a particular letter caught her eye. She pushed all the others aside to reach for it, and she glanced at the bottom to see who it was from, excitement building up inside her. When the name _TechWiz_ flashed back at her, Sam wasted no time in beginning to read it:

_Dear Anna,_

_First of all, thank you, your advice was great; very insightful. It really helped me a lot, and I've taken it.. well, some of it._

_I've gone on a two dates, but neither of them have really... felt right. One of them smelled weird, and the other was a total skunk bag! Yeah, I know I'm only doing this to date the one girl I wantt to, but... I'm starting to wonder why am i EVEN--ah, sorry, caps locks--doing this? What's the point of it? I guess you're right in saying you think C... er... dream girl is only doing this promise becase she thinks I don't really love her... but I do...! I mean... at least I think i do.... But then again, you might be right: she might not be my dream girl.... So why do I want to keep thinking she is so bad? Why do I feel so... scared--I'm not sure how els too describe it--if I stop thinking that?_

_As for the thorn in my side... I've tried to ask her twice now why is she so horrible to me, and both times I've failed miserably; I don't know if I'm more afraid of her beating me to a pulp... or her answr. And okay, she's not _that_ horrible... she;s actually fairly cool... and exciting... and pretty.... Pretty, but violent. I guess she's kind of like a rose: nice to look at, but will hurt you if you touch her.... i guess I wouldn't wan her any other way though. Well... sometimes... ah, I don't know! Sometimes she gets into my bubble, and I jus _want_ to touch her even though I know it's just asking for a death wishh... it's also weird how... exhilarated I am when we're close, even when it's just her physically abusing me... argh, what's wrong with me? Ugh! I wish I understodd these feelings when i'm near her.... _

_Argh, if you could make some snese of any of this, that would be awesome! Because I still can't sem to.... I'm having this internal battle about these two girls, and neiher of themm even know it, though I'm more than willingly to keep it that way. But yeah, any more words of wisdom for me? I"d love to hear them...._

_Well, I have to go and relish myself now.... Ha ha--um... yeah, I guess that makes no sense (and was really unfunny, sorry...). My mom is yelling for me so she can preform her weekly inspection for fruit flies--don't ask, she's crazy--so I don't have time to explain. oh well. Thanks in advance. peeace (I like how you put that before your name).  
_

_-TechWiz_

_What the...? _Sam's eyebrows furrowed as she read some lines over again. _This... really sounds _a lot_ like... but, no... no, it can't... no... but.... _She threw another fleeting glimpse to his name:

_TechWiz...._

"OH MY HAM!"

"Sam! Quiet!" Ms. Bumbleworth commanded from the other end of the classroom, but Sam didn't hear her. All she could hear was an annoying buzzing in her ear asking her over and over, _How did you miss something as obvious as_ that_, Puckett?!_

No, she couldn't jump to conclusions yet. She needed solid proof... she needed his laptop... she needed to get the heck out of there before she passed out.

Stuffing the letter into her bag, Sam bolted. She could hear Ms. Bumbleworth calling after her, but she simply ignored her and ran to the exit. Her heart sunk when she saw the extreme downpour that was currently blasting outside--_stupid Seattle_--but she wasn't going to let it stop her. With her jaw set, Sam zipped up her sweater as far as it would go, concealed her hair with her hood, and pushed the door open. A powerful gust of wind hit her, chilling her to the bone, but Sam fought through it and managed to squeeze out of the school.

She pressed herself against the glass door and breathed in the fresh air, trying to avoid getting wet for a little while longer as well as trying to calm her nerves. She couldn't believe how ignorant she had been. Even though she wasn't one-hundred percent positive on the true identity of _TechWiz_, it was all pretty blatant... and it all made absolute sense. The pieces added up too perfectly: the "promise," the sudden dating, _everything_. How had she been so blind?

And as she started heading towards the Bushwell--only deciding about five minutes later to just go home instead when she was knocked right off her feet by the wind; she'd go there later when the weather cleared up--she began to think over the possibility of Freddie really being _TechWiz_. A large part of her didn't want to be true; just envisioning Carly and Freddie kissing made her want to hurl, and the fact that he was going on these dates... and Carly would give him a chance after one more? What?

But then she thought about what else he's said.... _She's not that horrible.... I really did experience all that when I kissed her.... Do I have... feelings for her...? She's kind of like a rose.... I wish I understood these feelings when I'm near her...._

And deep, _deep_ down... a part of her really, _really_ wanted it to be true.

-:-

**A/N:** Ah, I'm sorry, okay? I know this chapter is long overdue, but I've been busy. Really busy. I also got a bad case of writer's block for this chapter, so... I started a new story! Yay! And hey, look! It worked! :D Of course this story is still my main focus, but I do have some followers for my new story already, so I do plan to get rolling on that soon. Anyway, thank you to **everyone** who continue to read this story! I appreciate it so, so, sooo much! :) Also, this chapter is dedicated to **Mlle. Madeline **aka **Millie**! She and I are now official iCarly-fanfiction BFFs. Exciting, huh...? Yeah, you care deeply. Ha, so yes, what did you think of this chapter? Tell me, puh-lease?

To **your... er, my? flamer:** Hahahaha, thank you so much! Wow, I don't think I have laughed that hard in a long time. I'm worse than Jersey Shore? That's, like... the ultimate insult, hahah! XD

Dun, dun, dun... QUESTION: **What are you most afraid of?** Me...? Alright, don't laugh, but... I'm afraid of dolls... porcelain dolls. Ugh, I hate them so much! The way their eyes follow you everywhere you go. -cringes- My grandma bought me one once--it was a sick joke, I know it--and I had to throw it in the closet because I didn't like how it watched me while I slept. I also have arachnophobia though; I will literally cry if I see a spider... blech! Alright, now tell me yours! I'm really interested to see your guys' answer for this one. :)


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